


Sensitivity

by tielan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Gen, Season/Series 01, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-29
Updated: 2009-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-05 11:16:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 36,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cup of coffee from Rodney is the first hint of a chain of events that will put every woman in Atlantis in danger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published June 2005.

A cup of coffee was Dr. Elizabeth Weir’s first notification that something strange was going on in Atlantis.

It was not the coffee itself, but the fact that Dr. Rodney McKay brought it that triggered the peculiar sense that she’d somehow wandered into the Twilight Zone.

She studied Rodney over the rim of the cup, pleased that she didn’t have to go out for a refill, but disturbed nevertheless. “Rodney? Is everything okay?”

He was plainly surprised at her question. “Everything’s fine, Elizabeth. Why?”

Her look at the mug of coffee and then back at him made her point clear. His expression lightened with understanding. “Oh, the coffee. Well, as I was getting my own mug and I noticed that yours was also empty, it only took a minute to get some for you as well.”

Elizabeth rose from her desk where she’d been looking at the food shortages projected by the mess-hall sergeants. “It’s unusual for you to do something like this.”

“Ah yes. Well, unusual doesn’t mean it can never happen. It simply means that it’s not within the usual parameters of--”

There was only one way to get his attention when he was in the middle of an explanation: talk a little louder and a little more firmly to break through the sound of his own voice. “Rodney.”

For a wonder, he paused in the middle of his sentence. “Yes?”

She gave him a smile and lifted the mug towards him in a short toast. “Thank you.”

His pleasure in her appreciation was amusing, to say the least. Although Elizabeth would never consider him the most suave of men in Atlantis, there was a charm to his manner that made it hard not to like him, however blunt or arrogant he could be. The smug satisfaction stayed with him all the way to the briefing room, where the rest of his team were already at their places at the table.

“...still think it’s barbaric,” Major John Sheppard was saying. On the other side of the room, Lieutenant Aiden Ford nodded in emphatic agreement.

“It is their custom,” Teyla Emmagen replied as Elizabeth took her seat.

“And you wouldn’t have minded being married off at fourteen?”

The young woman’s glance flickered towards Elizabeth as she took her spot at the table. “Had I been of their people, brought up to their customs, then marriage at such an age would also have been my expectation.” She turned a serene countenance upon Major Sheppard. “I was not, and so it is not.”

Elizabeth could imagine how she’d have felt at being married off at fourteen. But then, as Teyla had pointed out, that wasn’t her background.

“Marriage customs?”

Teyla nodded. “The Tabaasi are a farmer culture,” she said. “It is their custom to marry off their daughters when they reach puberty.”

“Fourteen,” Sheppard said with the air of someone making a very important point. “The girl who was married while we were there was fourteen. _Fourteen._ The guy she was marrying was nearly twice her age.”

Elizabeth kept the wince from her face. The difference between fourteen and twenty-eight was huge in terms of age, maturity, understanding... “Many cultures married their girls off young,” She pointed out before taking a sip from her coffee and folding her hands on the table. “It meant more years spent being productive in terms of childbearing and housekeeping.” Sheppard stared at her in disbelief, and she defended her statement. “I don’t necessarily agree with it, Major, I’m saying that this is the view many cultures take.”

“It’s still barbaric.”

“Major, you weren’t sent to make value judgements on their culture, you were sent to find out if they were willing to trade with us for food.” Elizabeth regarded Major Sheppard’s team. “Tell me that the news is good.”

As the shortage reports on her desk indicated, Atlantis was facing rations. They hadn’t yet found a planet of people who were willing to trade as much food as they needed to feed the population presently living in Atlantis. Some cultures had promised surplus from their crops, but it wouldn’t make much of a dent in the kind of consumption the expedition group were looking at.

Most of their other options were gone. After the planetary storm, the Athosians would have barely enough to feed their own people. Teyla had reported that the next seasons would be harsh. Elizabeth had no intention of making it harsher with the Atlantis expedition drawing on their meagre supplies as well.

This planet was one of the last ones on their list, and had been left until this late because the Athosians had not had any contact with them in several generations. Teyla didn’t know why, and John had agreed with her that it was best to explore their known avenues of possibility before examining the unknown ones.

As she studied them, Elizabeth realised that she didn’t need to be told that the news was good; she could see it in their poses. Relaxed, but still alert, and with the buoyant air of a team who’d gotten what they went to get.

“The news is good.” John confirmed in a voice of distinct satisfaction.

“Well, if by ‘good’ you mean, ‘they’re willing to trade us food,’ then, yes, the news is good,” Rodney said. He had a habit of starting his more ostentatious sentences by staring off into the middle distance before he focused his gaze on the person he was speaking to. Elizabeth found it both amusing and irritating. “If by ‘good’ you mean, ‘they don’t marry their daughters off as soon as they hit puberty,’ then, no, the news is not so good.”

Elizabeth’s mouth twitched at his pomposity and noted that Lieutenant Ford also hid a grin. Teyla’s mouth curved in an open smile, but Sheppard seemed exasperated as he glared at his team-mate. “They’re willing to trade us food,” he said. “That’s good. The other stuff...not so much.”

It was a start. However, the question was whether it would be enough to keep Atlantis from rations and whether it would leave Atlantis short of yet another resource of which they had little enough. Elizabeth chose to focus on what was probably going to be the less palatable part of the bargain. “What do they want in return?”

More accurately, what had John bargained away this time in exchange for the food they needed?

It was fairly obvious that he knew exactly what she was thinking. He gave her a look that said he had her number and wasn’t afraid to call her on it. “They wanted to know about Earth crops and growing techniques.”

“That’s all?” She lifted an eyebrow and waited for the other boot to drop.

“That’s all,” he said firmly.

Elizabeth had been a diplomatic negotiator for years now, and the first thing she’d learned in dealing with people was that everyone wanted something. She eyed John. “You’re sure of this?”

“They’re a very backwards culture,” Rodney said. “Their technology is non-existent, their agricultural techniques are primitive...”

“...and their marriage customs are barbaric,” Ford muttered.

“...and their marriage customs are...quirky,” the scientist continued as though he hadn’t been interrupted. “They wouldn’t know what to do with most of the technology we brought with us. Information is about the only thing we can give them that they’d have the faintest inkling of what to do with.”

It was a relief to find a culture willing to take something that they could afford to give.

“Information about Earth crops and growing techniques we can manage,” she said. “How much food can they provide us?”

“Lots.”

“Heaps.”

“Loads.”

“Crates.”

Teyla spoke up from her seat beside John. “They can provide us with volumes of food quite close to that which we require.”

The Athosian woman’s practicality was an island of relief in the midst of her team-mates’ jokes and commentary. As fond as Elizabeth was of Major Sheppard’s team, including Major Sheppard, there were moments when she wished for a little more seriousness and a little less comedy from them.

“Thank you, Teyla,” she said. “And you didn’t have to bargain away all our medical and C4 supplies to them?”

John looked marginally abashed. “It happened once.”

“I believe that once is more than enough,” Rodney remarked airily. “I still have all those wonderful memories of being shoved around by Commander Kolya in the freezing rain with a knife wound in my arm.”

“And we still have all those wonderful memories of your complaints for days afterwards,” John retorted.

“Gentlemen,” Elizabeth interrupted before it could become a full-blown comedy sketch. “You’re quite sure the Tabaasi are willing to trade large amounts of food with us in exchange for a little knowledge?”

“They didn’t ask for anything else.”

“Did they say when they would be able to deliver the first batch to us?”

“I believe their words were ‘at the next full moon’,” Rodney said.

Elizabeth waited. Rodney occasionally assumed his audience knew exactly what he was talking about, which John claimed was a pleasant change from assuming his audience were all idiots, but which she found more than a little tiresome when she had to ask for clarification at every turn. “Which will be...when?”

He looked astonished that she’d had to ask. “Maybe a week from now. No,” he held up a hand. “Six days actually. The same time as our own full moon. Actually, it’s quite rare to have a conjunction of their planetary bodies with ours. The odds of it are astronomical.”

“Literally,” John said with heavy irony.

“Six days?” Elizabeth was surprised. “That soon?”

It was Teyla who provided the answer. “Their growing techniques allow them to adjust their harvest according to the number of mouths they need to feed - and their farming season is year-long.”

“That would be due to their latitudinal position in the hemisphere,” Rodney explained. “It would be like, say, living in California. Or maybe a few degrees further south.”

“When did you ever live in California?”

“I know it might be hard for you to comprehend, Major, but you don’t know everything about me.”

“Thank God,” John muttered, just loud enough for Rodney to hear.

“Gentlemen.” She waited until she had both their gazes before she continued. “I’ll have Grodin schedule you to return to the Tabaasi in two days’ time. I’d like to be sure that the knowledge is all that they want, and you can confirm the first delivery. The sooner we have fresh food, the better.” They’d had none since the storm, living on MREs and what little could be brought back by hunting parties from the mainland.

“Could we have a party while we’re at it?” The suggestion came, a little surprisingly, from Lieutenant Ford. “I mean, we haven’t had a party since the Athosians first came to Atlantis.” He glanced over at Teyla with a brief smile to which she faintly smiled back.

The suggestion was a good one, and Elizabeth let her appreciation of it show. “I’ll speak with the mess hall sergeants. If they think it’s a possibility, it would be a great morale-booster. Is there anything else?” Heads were shaken and she released them to their regular duties on the base with a smile. “Good work, then.”

John followed her back to her office, keeping pace alongside her as he went. “Is everything okay?”

She regarded him with a half-amused smile. “Yes. Why?”

“Oh, you just seemed...restless. When we came back from Tabaasa,” he qualified. “You were fairly short then.”

At the time they’d arrived back from Tabaasa, she’d been somewhat busy fielding yet another set of complaints from Dr. Cavanaugh who, it seemed, was taking everything she did as a personal insult. As a result, her greeting had been terse and she had gone back to dealing with the gripes of the scientist in the most firm, yet polite manner that she could summon.

However, Elizabeth wouldn’t have expected him to notice that.

“Dealing with some on-base situations,” she said, choosing not to reveal the cause of her earlier irritation. “I’m fine now.”

“So you weren’t before?”

She paused on the ‘bridge’ between her office and the central control room. “I never said that.”

“You just did.”

Not in so many words, perhaps. Elizabeth shook her head. “Never mind,” she told him. “Everything’s fine. Really.”

He didn’t look as though he believed her, but he shrugged and went off in the direction of the general base.

Elizabeth stared after him a moment trying to shake the feeling that she’d just dreamed up their conversation. It was nothing she could pinpoint, only the faintest sense that something was just a little strange.

Then she put down her coffee, sat down at her desk and looked at the reports on her screen. A few minutes later, the shortage reports had been filed back in her computer’s ‘in-tray’ to be dealt with after the other reports were done. Hopefully by the time she got around to them again, the Tabaasi would have made good on their promise of fresh foodstuffs, and the shortage reports would be redundant.

Well, she could hope anyway.

As she pulled up the next set of reports - estimates of the medical shortage that the Gennii had induced when they took the bulk of the base’s medical supplies at the height of the storm - her eye fell back on the mug of coffee.

Definitely strange.

\--

After the fourth man looked in on him and Teyla sparring, John felt as though he’d missed some kind of announcement

He hated being out of the loop.

“Teyla?”

“Yes?”

“Is there something I should know?” He took advantage of her momentary thought to attack, trying to move past her defences. She disarmed his attack with seemingly effortless skill, although he could see the faint sheen of perspiration gilding her skin in the light of the gym window.

“I do not understand what you mean.”

He feinted, testing her this way and that, trying to find the moment when she would be open to attack, even in the midst of conversation. “Somehow, I don’t think these guys are dropping by to see me.”

Her brow creased in a slight frown as she blocked his feints. “There has never been any interest in our sparring activities before.” She took the moment to attack him, and he managed to fend her off - barely.

John gave ground and looked for another opening. “Yeah, see, that was before. But now is after.”

“After what?”

“After whatever it is that has all the guys coming around to check you out.”

It wasn’t entirely unusual for Teyla to be admired. Males were males the galaxy over, and she was a striking young woman. The guys on Tabaasa had been so attentive that even McKay had noticed it - and that was saying something.

But these were the members of the Atlantis expedition - guys who would ordinarily think twice about showing such overt interest in her. Not that they didn’t admire, just that they knew better than to say anything about it around her or any of the other women in Atlantis.

Generally, John ignored the admiring looks and comments, unless the talk got a little too ‘locker room’ for his tastes. As the senior officer on the base, as well as the leader of her team he had to keep an eye on that sort of thing after all.

“I do not know what has occasioned these visits,” she replied, with a hint of veiled annoyance as she parried his attack out so their staves locked above their heads. “So I cannot tell you if there is something you should know. Perhaps when you discover what it is that you do not know, you will tell me?” The faintest hint of teasing sparkled in her eyes before she disengaged their staves, then slipped one staff back in again and rapped him across the knuckles before spinning away.

John winced and reached for the staff he’d dropped since she was giving him the space and time to pick it up instead of promptly beating his ass. “I guess I should be grateful that you didn’t comment on just how much I don’t know.”

“The way Dr. McKay would have?”

“Exactly.” He attacked again, trying to force her backwards but failed. She twirled her staff in the air, taunting him with a smile.

The scientists had decided that Teyla’s skill in hand-to-hand fighting and weaponry was as much a function of her background as training. Instincts more traditionally belonging to hunted creatures had been developed among the Athosians after generations of running from the Wraith. Those instincts were dulled in Earth genetics after thousands of years of being top dog on the planet.

Frankly, John didn’t really care why Teyla’s eye-hand co-ordination was better than his. He wanted to know how to beat it, at least once, just so he could say he had.

As they circled around again, he decided that a slightly different tack was in order. He attacked with the staves, watching the pattern of her moves, trying to find a weakness in her defence. On the staves alone, he couldn’t hope to beat her, but if he added in something else...

So he repeated the pattern of his attack, and she defended against it. Dark eyes narrowed at him, with the comprehension that he was doing something but not quite the foresight to see what it was.

As they locked staves, John hooked his foot around hers and swept her feet out from under her. As she fell, he batted at her staves, close to the hand so she lost her grip on them and they tumbled from her hands. A moment later, he had one at her throat and the other pressing her wrist into the floor. “Ha!”

“That is not part of the usual training,” she observed, but with a faint smile on her face.

“Yeah, well, training counts for some,” he said, pleased with his move, “but there’s nothing like a change of tactics to be successful in a fight.”

The smile stayed in place, but her leg swept out. A moment later, he’d fallen to the floor - quite painfully hard - and she was straddling his hips with one of her staves at his throat. “Indeed,” she replied serenely. “Were you not saying...?”

John was warm from the training. He knew that. His body knew that. They’d been at this for at least half an hour, during which someone had interrupted every few minutes.

However, his body was also telling him that there was a young woman sitting more or less on his lap, a friend and ally, but also an attractive female, panting slightly, and that if he caught her wrist and tumbled them over so she was beneath him...

His lips were descending towards hers when he realised she’d spoken his name.

“John?”

With a start, he realised that he had put thoughts to action, rolling them over so she was beneath him, and he was lying between her thighs. Under his chest, he could feel the rise and fall of her breasts, and his eyes slipped down to linger on their curves before he dragged his gaze back up to her face.

There was no fear in her eyes. Some women would have struggled against his imprisonment; others would have invited what he offered. Teyla simply returned his gaze, aware of his body against hers, of the sexuality of their positions, but neither inviting, nor rejecting it. She didn’t encourage him, but she wasn’t protesting either.

Then again, right now, simply breathing could be considered an encouragement.

His body quivered with desire, not quite inflamed but with the possibilities lurking, like undercurrents far beneath the surface of the sea around the city.

And, like Atlantis rising to the surface of the ocean, one thought separated itself from the currents and drifted to his consciousness.

_What the hell?_

John blinked, and pushed himself up on his arms, rolling out of the cradle of her hips to sit on the floor beside her.

As she levered herself up on her arms, he ran a hand through his hair, trying to make sense of the last few moments, trying to work out what had happened. He found Teyla attractive and she seemed to like him as much as she liked any of the men in Atlantis, but...there were more things in life than sex, and loyalties that ran deeper than physical relationships.

Teyla was valuable to him as a friend and ally. He liked her company and her interest in the things of Earth. She wasn’t his superior in the expedition’s chain of command, and she had a fighter’s energy and spirit. John respected and admired all that about her.

And if there were moments when he watched her move and wondered what it would feel like to move against and in her lean, lithe body, they were only momentary thoughts. Probably nothing that any man on the base hadn’t briefly thought at some stage or another.

A glance over his shoulder at her showed that she was watching him uncertainly. Probably trying to figure him out. He managed a smile, hoping it didn’t appear too self-conscious. “Got you that time.”

She regarded him solemnly a moment longer, before a smile eased its way onto her face. “As you said, a change in tactics can put an opponent off guard.”

Teyla climbed to her feet to collect their staves and John watched the long-limbed grace of her movements. She moved like a dancer, whether in combat boots or barefoot, with the easy walk of a woman who knew her worth and was comfortable with her body. And yes, John found that attractive in a woman.

He met her eyes and knew that he’d been caught staring. A brief smile and a shrug seemed to satisfy the query in her eyes, but he felt her tense as he walked past her to pick up his own stuff. That momentary bracing of the body brought on an unexpected wave of anger, but she indicated the door, and they left the gym in silence.

They walked back through the halls without conversation, passing other personnel on their way.

Maybe it was just the intimacy of that earlier moment, but John was suddenly more aware of the men who turned to smile and greet them both, and the way their gazes lingered on Teyla as she walked past them.

It seemed that she was becoming aware of the looks and glances as well.

“I believe I am beginning to understand what you said before,” she said as they passed a group of marines, who greeted them as they went past. “There is a remarkable interest in our training.”

John paused. He wanted to tell her that the ‘remarkable interest’ was not in their training, but in _her_, but he had no proof. Just...a feeling that this was the case. That and the fact that the looks the other men were giving her made him just a little edgy. He felt as though he should raise his hackles, and maybe snarl at them as they passed by. He did neither.

“Maybe they heard that I was going to beat you today.”

She looked over at him with delicate amusement, “You did not beat me,” she pointed out.

Now that was going too far! “I beat you fair and square,” he protested. “Just because I used slightly less orthodox moves...” Teyla arched a brow at him, and he qualified his words. “Okay, so they were completely unorthodox. But I won.”

“These are tests of skill and stamina, Major,” she said with gentle good nature. “They are not all about winning.”

He didn’t get that. “Why fight if you’re not going to win?”

“To practise,” Teyla replied. “To train and develop one’s skill with such things.”

“And ultimately, to win,” he said.

She shook her head. “Sometimes there is gain in simply improving in skill.”

“Where’s the point if you’re not going to use that skill for something?” They passed a couple of scientists; the guy glanced up at Teyla and smiled shyly. John felt a shaft of irritation, and narrowed his eyes at the man. The smile vanished and the man looked down. “The point of honing all this skill is to use it to beat someone else.”

“Situations are not always as clear-cut as winning and losing,” she countered.

Okay, he could get that. Sort of. “All the situations I have to deal with are.” Which was probably why he and Weir occasionally clashed heads. She was diplomatic, he wasn’t. Then there was the issue of the chain of command. That occasionally reared its head in his relationship with the expedition’s leader.

John wasn’t going to think about that right now.

“Friendships?”

“That’s different.”

She smiled, having made her point. Not _all_ the situations he had to deal with were involved with winning or losing.

However this one was.

“I will concede the win,” Teyla said with a smile. “But only this time,” she warned as he broke into a grin. “Next time you must follow the rules of the fight.

“Rules wouldn’t apply in a real fight.”

“This is not a real fight.”

“But if it _had_ been a real fight, I would have won,” he said. “Sometimes you need...”

“...to change your tactics to be successful against an enemy,” she finished as she palmed open the door to her quarters and went inside. “So you have said.” She tilted her head at him in dismissal, and her lips curved faintly at him. “Thank you for the exercise, Major.”

John would have been happy enough to stand there and argue the point, but she raised a brow at him and palmed the door shut behind her, cutting off the conversation.

It wasn’t until he was in his own quarters that John realised that she had changed his wording, just a little. He’d spoken in terms of an opponent, seeing their training as a friendly fight. Teyla had spoken in terms of an enemy.

And even the vaguest notion that she might consider him an enemy was deeply disturbing.

\--

The Tabaasi crop fields were everything she could have wished for in her desire for growing plants and living soil.

Fruit pollen tingled in her nostrils, a miniscule dusting of motes in the air, and the faint sounds of the people working in the nearby gardens were lazy and rhythmic. There was a peace to the land, so different to the kind of silence that could be found in Atlantis.

Teyla would never have admitted to anyone in Atlantis just how much she missed the land and her people.

She would not admit such a weakness to the people with whom she now worked; she doubted they would have understood. But there were moments when she stood on the balconies where the Ancients had stood, when she looked up at the open sky and the broad expanses of sea beyond the city’s edges, and wished for dust beneath her feet and the scent of growing things.

In the beginning, she had remained with the people from Earth out of a sense of duty to her people, that they have at least one advocate among these new people who had arrived from another galaxy. Now, she stayed out of friendship, respect, and hope.

Now, she stood in a circular garden, one of many that stretched out over the slopes and hills. The garden itself was roughly circular, but made up of smaller circles of growing things, a mélange of vegetables and grain, all growing higgledy-piggledy among each other.

Her team-mates had been surprised by the layout, and their astonishment had not wholly abated as their host, Hatiana, explained the Tabaasi way of growing. The mix provided protection from pests, variety in their food supply, and ensured that if one plant fell prone to a disease, it would not spread to other, nearby plants of the same kind.

Teyla listened from across the garden, pausing beside a stand of grain whose heads were ripe and bursting. She could feel the eyes of her team-mates upon her as she reached out to a tall plant from whose branches sprouted clusters of small reddish-orange globes. The clusters of fruit were turning from pale green to deep red, and she ran her finger down the surface of one of the fruit.

She glanced up, warned by an instinct, and caught Lieutenant Ford watching her with slightly narrowed eyes.

After the events that had ended last night’s sparring, Teyla had abruptly become conscious of the interest and attention of the men of Atlantis around and about her. It had increased very recently, she was sure. Only a few days ago, she’d merited no more special interest than any other woman on the base.

Yet now, her team-mates were almost constantly watching her; an unnerving consciousness of their presence that she did not remember from even their jaunt before this one.

“We call them _tangian_,” said a new voice just behind her, and she turned, startled.

The Tabaasi man had come up behind her on silent feet, his sandals making little sound in the sawdust of the path. He was tanned and handsome, with eyes that were nearly black and tilted upwards at the corners.

His glance took in the fruit she’d been touching. She glanced back at the plant, relieved to have her mind occupied with other matters. “They remind me of the _denoggion_ my mentor used to grow.”

“You are the one that is not from their people,” he said. “Teyla Emmagen.”

“I am,” she replied, and gave him the greeting of her people.

He returned it with a deeper bow and a twinkle to his eye. “I am Istekhon of Tabaas, master of these gardens.”

“You have cause to be proud of your work,” she said. “I have never seen such variety and growth before.”

“It is the variety that brings us the growth,” Istekhon explained, moving past her to crouch and pluck out some thin green slivers that had pushed themselves up through the soil. “The _esillia_ grows better in the company of the _tangian_,” he said, caressing the rich green leaves of a smaller plant as he rose from the ground. “And the two go together well in the pot, richness in the flavours of our food.”

He reached past her, and she began to step back. His hand on her shoulder stopped her and a moment later, he held a scarlet _tangian_ from the branch.

“You speak of the _denoggion_ of your people?” Istekhon asked, and Teyla nodded. “Try this _tangian_ and tell me if the two are the same.” She reached for the morsel with her hand, but he presented it to her lips and, after a moment’s hesitation at the intimacy, she took it delicately from his fingers.

As she bit into the fruit, the rich, ripe flavours burst from the containing skin with the same tangy delight that she remembered in Charon’s plants. Teyla closed her eyes and smiled, lost in the sensation of another time and place, the memories evoked by the taste of something she had not known in a long time. She could almost smell the fragrant smoke from Charon’s fire, see her mentor’s smile...

“Yes,” she answered, although he could surely see her recognition. “They are the same.”

Istekhon’s finger brushed back against her lip, and her eyes snapped open in surprise.

There was no mistaking the admiration and desire in his gaze as he regarded her, and she was startled enough to step back. This intimacy was as disconcerting as Major Sheppard’s actions of the previous day, with an intention that was as confusing as it was unexpected.

“Everything okay here, Teyla?” Major Sheppard’s voice turned both their heads, the tone light and easy but with an underlying warning not intended for her.

Teyla was grateful for the intervention, although the hardness in Major Sheppard’s expression did not reassure her. “Everything is fine, Major,” she said, taking care not to sound hurried or apologetic. “Istekhon was showing me this fruit that resembles one I remember tasting as a child.”

He glanced at the plant briefly. “Looks like a tomato to me.”

“You recognise it?” Istekhon inquired, interested. If he was aware of the undercurrents, he said nothing of them. “Yet you are not one who grows things.”

Major Sheppard frowned. “I don’t think I need to be a gardener to recognise basic vegetables,” he said.

“True,” Istekhon said. He waved a hand at the gardens around them. “I believe our _lorekhi_ has spoken with one of your people regarding an early shipment for your people. And one of your people was most concerned about certain foods that might disagree?”

“Dr. McKay has...bad reactions to certain foods,” Teyla explained, relieving Major Sheppard of the need to explain. She did not think that the term ‘allergies’ was one that these people understood, any more than her own people had, prior to the arrival of the Atlantis expedition among them.

Truly, it was a strange and wonderful universe; with so much that they did not know and had never conceived of not knowing.

“Ah. He wishes to be certain that our food will not poison him?” Istekhon inquired with a twinkle in his eye. “It is understandable.”

“It’s just precautions,” Major Sheppard said in a tone that fooled Teyla not at all. “In fact,” he added, “McKay would probably like to be sure of it before we take anything back with us today. McKay!” He turned slightly so the other man would hear him better.

Teyla was surprised at his words. “We are taking some food back with us?”

“Just a sample,” he said. “Mostly to confirm that it doesn’t carry anything that we can’t handle. Annoying as McKay gets, we need every person we have in the city.”

“So nice to know I’m so valuable to you, Major,” McKay said as he came up. “Not that you’re not correct. You’d never be able to replace me and my knowledge.”

Behind him, Lieutenant Ford caught Teyla’s gaze and rolled his eyes in exaggerated exasperation. Teyla stifled a grin, but caught Major Sheppard’s narrowed eyes as well as Istekhon’s querying expression.

“If you wouldn’t mind showing Dr. McKay and the Lieutenant the samples that the lady mentioned putting aside this morning, I’m sure we can take our supplies and get out of your hair as soon as possible.”

There was an insincerity to Major Sheppard’s smile that grated on Teyla’s nerves. It was more like the baring of teeth than a pleasant agreement, and quite unlike him.

Naturally, Dr. McKay was oblivious to this. “So, remind me again, Major, since I’m the one who has the allergic reaction, why am I the one running the tests?”

“Because you’re the scientist,” Major Sheppard said. “And you’re the one who probably has the best idea of the information we’re going to exchange for our first shipment of food.”

“Wonderful,” McKay said without any enthusiasm whatsoever. “I had a feeling that was it. You do realise that all this pollen blowing in the air isn’t good for my...”

“I realise.”

“And that if I happen to be allergic to it, I could have a reaction...”

“I realise.”

“And that you’ll have to carry me back through the Stargate...”

“You have a reaction, McKay,” Major Sheppard said heartlessly, “and we’ll leave you here.”

“Right. Now have you ever noticed why nobody ever calls you ‘charming’, Major?”

“About as often as you have, McKay.” The Major indicated the direction of the growing-houses through which they’d been shown earlier today. “The sooner you get your tests done, the sooner we can get off this planet with the pollen that you may or may not be allergic to.”

Teyla shared a look with Lieutenant Ford at the argument between their team-mates, and the young man took the opportunity to ask, “Sir, I don’t suppose I could stay...”

“No, Lieutenant.”

Lieutenant Ford looked rueful and Teyla shot him a sympathetic smile. Dr. McKay could be...tiring at times. He was a very knowledgeable man, and possessed very few traces of humility to leaven his arrogance. It was usually entertaining but, on occasion, became grating, as his team-mates had good reason to know.

Istekhon turned to Teyla, his hand reaching out to take hers. “It has truly been a pleasure meeting you, Teyla Emmagen,” he said, apparently unaware of Major Sheppard bristling behind him. “I hope our paths shall cross again.”

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers lightly before walking away down the path to the exit of the garden. Lieutenant Ford blinked and his mouth formed the word, “Okay,” before he followed after Istekhon.

Dr. McKay looked from her to Major Sheppard and back to her. “This would be one of those things about which I shouldn’t ask.”

“Good call.”

“Yes, I thought so. Well.” He hurried off after Lieutenant Ford.

Then it was just she and Major Sheppard.

In her quieter moments, Teyla sometimes mentally thought of him as ‘John’, but she never called him by his first name. The informality might speak of a degree of comfort and familiarity with the man, but she instinctively knew that it might also open up more possibilities than she was free to pursue at this point in time.

In a way, if she had not been as aware of him as an attractive man, she would have been less uncomfortable regarding his conduct yesterday.

And she might have been less uncomfortable with the hand that closed over hers before she could drop it to her side. “You sure you’re okay?” Eyes that were a pale hazel in sunlight regarded her intently, and the warm caress of his fingers over her palm caused her a moment’s distraction.

“I am fine, Major,” she said, calmly. “Istekhon meant me no harm.”

He didn’t look satisfied with her answer, but there was nothing more she could do to reassure him. Even if there had been, Teyla was not so sure she would have done so. At this point in time, she wished to give him no encouragement to take a further interest in her life.

As it was, neither his proximity, nor his touch was assisting her state of mind after Istekhon’s gallantry.

“Well, maybe not harm,” he said. “But the guys around here have been watching you since we walked through the Gate.”

Teyla was tempted to remind him of his actions in the gym the previous day. The memory of his body, hard and lean on top of hers burned in tactile memory. She didn’t.

“Major Sheppard, Teyla Emmagen.” Hatiana, their host, had made her way around the garden to speak with them. “You do not wish to be shown the harvested crops?”

“Oh, that’s being taken care of by our team-mates,” Major Sheppard said. “We’re just waiting for them to get back with the food.”

Hatiana glanced quizzically at Teyla, who summoned a smile. “Dr. McKay does not respond well to certain kinds of foods.”

“Ah,” Hatiana nodded, not without some sympathy. “There are some foods that do not agree with certain people, while others can eat everything without danger. There is always the possibility of...trouble.”

There was an element of warning in the other woman’s words, and Teyla felt her team-mate’s shift. “What kind of trouble?”

The tanned woman tilted her head back to regard Major Sheppard. She was a small and trim, perhaps of an equal age with the Major, and with an aura of calm about her. Teyla had met her only this morning, and liked the woman; in the face of the watchfulness of her team-mates and the interest of the Tabaasi men, she had been grateful for another female presence.

“It is not something that should concern you,” Hatiana dismissed after a moment’s study.

“Look, we’re going to be giving this food to our people,” Major Sheppard said with some heat. “We don’t want to be feeding them poison.”

“I believe there is little fear of that, Major” Teyla interposed, hoping that her words might quell his fears - or remind him of basic courtesy. “Dr. Beckett is certain that there are no significant differences between your people and mine in body.”

“And the insignificant differences?” It was to be expected that he would pick up on the one word implying the possibility that they were not exactly the same.

Anger sparked within her. His concern was understandable, but his behaviour was disturbing her. She regarded him with a semblance of calm. “Of those, I do not know.”

“Yeah, well, what you don’t know can still kill you,” he said shortly.

A swift glance at Hatiana showed the woman with a faint frown wrinkling her high forehead as she looked from one to the other. Teyla slipped her hand from his, and reached past the Major to the bush from which Istekhon had taken the _denoggion_. She took his hand, pressed the plucked _denoggion _into it, and said, “You believed it to be like a food from Earth, Major. Perhaps you should try it yourself and be sure.”

The slightest of scowls began to manifest itself on his face before she turned and walked away, choosing another part of the garden - one where he wasn’t.

There, she stood at the end of one of the short, radial paths that reached into the garden beds, and breathed deeply of the scent of living things.

She didn’t know what was happening. She didn’t know what had happened to her team-mates, most particularly Major Sheppard. But it was disturbing her; more than anything had disturbed her before.

He - and Lieutenant Ford and Dr. McKay - were friends. And yet Major Sheppard’s behaviour lately had been more like that of a jealous lover than a trusted friend.

“They do not mean harm by it, I imagine,” Hatiana said from behind her.

Teyla turned and was relieved to see Major Sheppard pacing through the next garden over. “They have been lately unsettled,” she said by way of explanation.

“Small wonder at that,” Hatiana murmured, “with the moon waxing to the full.” She crouched in the sawdust by Teyla, and began tugging at thin slivers of green sprouting from the ground beneath.

“And do your people celebrate the changing faces of the moon?”

Hatiana shook her head and gently dug out a few more sprouts. “Not as you might understand it. We plant and sow according to the seasons of the moon. That is our celebration, our rites of life and death. The moon dictates our patterns, we are drawn by it no less than the tides which wash our shores.”

“The rhythm of life.” A rhythm that had been sorely lacking in Atlantis, filled as it was with the bustle of people who counted their days in meaningless intervals.

“Yes,” Hatiana said. She sat back on her haunches and looked up at Teyla, blinking a little into the brightness of the sky. “You are different to them, are you not? You comprehend the turning of the seasons, how the world may speak to those who live close by it. Yet it is more than that you are female.”

“My people are like yours,” she explained, letting her eyes wash across the vivid greens, browns, golds and reds of the garden and the plants that grew in it. “We lived off the land, and were hunted by the Wraith when they came.”

“But your companions are not from your people, are they?”

“They are from a place which...which does not live as close to the seasons,” Teyla said. Sometimes the simplest explanations were the best. “So they are not as sensitive to such things.”

The Tabaasian woman nodded. “It seemed so - more so than merely that they are men and you are a woman.” She rose to her feet again, dusting sawdust from the knees of the light, loose trousers she wore. “But you trust them, yes?”

“I do,” she said.

“Then I suppose it is well for you,” Hatiana said cryptically.

Something in her tensed at the tone of voice, at the stance of the other woman, and Teyla could not help but ask, “You suppose?”

The buzz of the insects around them seemed louder in the warm spring air, as Hatiana turned to face her. The small woman studied her for a long moment, and then came to an internal decision. “I speak to you, Teyla Emmagen, as woman to woman, from one people who understand the turning of the seasons to another. You must not return to Tabaasa in the next few days.”

Teyla stared at Hatiana, confused.

Major Sheppard’s behaviour was one thing, Istekhon’s courtesies another, but her instincts had given her no inkling of this.

She grasped hold of the one thought that asserted itself amidst so many others in her mind. “But earlier today, it was arranged that we should return in several days to collect the first portion of grain...”

Hatiana’s hand touched her arm. “I should have been more specific. No _tinael_ should come to Tabaasa in the next few days.” She regarded Teyla in all seriousness and gravity as she added, “If they do, it may be worth their life.”

\--

“_Tinael_?” Elizabeth questioned.

The warning concerned her, not least because they’d already seen arrangements for food collapse one by one as allies turned out to be rather less than they’d hoped. The city was, if not on the verge of starvation, certainly not glutting itself on excess.

Sheppard shrugged but said nothing. It was Rodney who answered her question. “It probably means ‘foreigner’ or something like that. They were...uh...insular. Especially when the Major started a comparative testosterone calibration with one of the locals.”

_Comparative testosterone calib-- Oh, no._ “You got into a fight?” Elizabeth asked sharply.

“It was a _disagreement_,” John said with a brief glare at Rodney before looking to her. “One that we sorted out.”

“There was a misunderstanding regarding the intent of one of the locals,” was Teyla’s explanation. “It was eventually cleared up.”

“Eventually?”

Sheppard was trying to be guileless. “They’re still willing to trade.”

Which was a start; it just didn’t entirely ease Elizabeth’s concerns about the agreement and how simple everything had been so far. A glance at the Lieutenant showed him in concordance with Major Sheppard, and Rodney nodded as she looked at him for confirmation. And Teyla _had_ said that the misunderstanding had been cleared up.

So why was she getting the feeling that something had been left out of the narrative?

She nearly asked about it, and then decided that it wasn’t relevant to this specific debriefing. She could follow it up with John or Teyla later.

“So we didn’t find out what the warning meant?”

“I tried to inquire further about the term, but Dr. McKay and Lieutenant Ford returned only a little while afterwards,” Teyla said. “There was no time to get sufficient explanation for her concern.”

“And do you think she was serious about the warning?”

“I do not believe she would have given it if she was not.”

A stray thought crossed Elizabeth’s mind. “Would it have had anything to do with the fight between Major Sheppard and the man?”

John sat up in his chair, about to protest. Teyla glanced at him, then met Elizabeth’s gaze squarely. “The warning by Hatiana was given before the argument with Istekhon.”

“Istekhon?”

“The guy who was all over Teyla,” Lieutenant Ford said.

“He was not ‘all over’ me, Lieutenant,” Teyla said with patient reproof.

John snorted. “He was definitely all over you, Teyla.”

“Although the terms ‘leering’ or ‘ogling’ might be just as accurate,” Rodney commented airily. “His interest in Teyla was obvious - even to me.”

Elizabeth was surprised. The attitudes of Teyla’s team-mates were more protective than usual And Rodney’s comment concerned her. “Was that why Major Sheppard got into a fight--?”

“Look, it wasn’t a fight, okay? It was a _disagreement_.”

As though that made any difference! Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “A disagreement over how this man was...showing his interest in Teyla?”

“Dr. Weir, this guy had more hands than Doc Ock,” Lieutenant Ford said, while John made ‘agreeing’ motions in Ford’s direction.

“Teyla?” It was a diversion, but one that she instinctively felt needed to be followed now. Elizabeth looked to the Athosian woman. “Was this ...Istekhon’s behaviour bothering you?”

Teyla’s gaze was calm, although traces of her discomfort showed in her eyes. The behaviour _had_ bothered her, but not so much that her team-mates had needed to step in. Her words only confirmed Elizabeth’s instincts. “It was nothing with which I couldn’t deal.”

Which was about as close as the other woman would get to saying that she hadn’t required their help.

Elizabeth didn’t quite sigh, but she did fix the guys with an intent expression. “And the warning?” It was the warning that concerned her more. If it meant they couldn’t go back for the food in a few days’ time...

“I do not know what Hatiana meant by it,” Teyla replied. “However, we received no warnings of trouble from anyone else that we met.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t we at the end of our tether regarding supplies?” Rodney asked. “Figuratively speaking, of course.”

“I just want to be sure that any people I send to pick up the supplies won’t be in any danger,” Elizabeth said firmly.

“Hatiana said the next few days,” Sheppard noted. “After that there shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“She said the next few days,” he protested. “Look, everything else pans out, we go back in four days and get the food - nothing to worry about.”

“And if everything else doesn’t pan out?”

“Then we go on rations and look for other options.”

There were moments when Elizabeth Weir fully understood the frustration of previous commanders of John Sheppard. This was one of them. “Rodney, how long will it take you and Carson to go through the tests for the major allergies?”

Rodney looked up from the computer board he’d brought with him into the briefing room. “Oh. Two days. Maybe. I’m busy right now with the computations of just how much energy we managed to retain from the lightning strikes during the storm. There’s obviously not enough to keep the shield up, but it might be enough for other purposes.”

“Then get busy with working out whether or not we can eat this stuff,” John said, exasperated. “You can go back to your computations afterwards.”

“On a full stomach, instead of rations,” Lieutenant Ford added.

“I’d appreciate it if you gave this your immediate attention, Rodney,” Elizabeth said, catching the gleam in his eyes just before he opened his mouth to make a pithy retort. “Warning or not, we need to know that the food is safe for us to eat. Once we do, I’ll review the situation on Tabaasa in the light of the warning Teyla was given.”

It was all she could really do.

Well, that, and grill John about it when he turned up on the balcony terrace later.

\--

“I don’t suppose you’d care to give a more solid reason for picking a fight with locals than ‘because one of them looked at Teyla the wrong way’?” She settled herself on the railing, staring out over the sea.

He leaned down on the railing beside her, comfortably shoulder to shoulder. “It needs a more solid reason than that?”

“Teyla is more capable of defending herself,” Elizabeth pointed out. “Something that you keep complaining about after your training sessions with her.” And from the sound of it, the young woman had been discomforted by Istekhon’s attention, but hardly in need of rescuing.

“She’s good against someone whose moves she knows,” John said. “And he wasn’t the only one watching her, either. For a bunch of paedophiles, all the guys seemed to have their eyes on Teyla.”

Elizabeth winced. In terms of Earth sexuality, yes, the term was appropriate. In terms of culture... “Mediaeval and Renaissance women were married off as soon as they reached puberty and childbearing age, too, you know.”

John frowned at her. “You’re not supposed to be defending them.”

“And I said I don’t approve of the practise. However, it’s a custom among this people. They’d probably find our practise of letting a woman choose her own man as strange as we find their practises.”

“I prefer ours.”

You wouldn’t want a bride fresh from the cradle?” Elizabeth asked, leaning back the better to see him. He answered in all seriousness.

“I like my women mature,” John retorted.

Elizabeth thought of Cheya Sar and kept her mouth shut. Although the Ancients didn’t calculate age like humans did, they’d been around for a long time. _Hence the name ‘the Ancients’._

“That still doesn’t explain why you picked a fight--”

“I. Didn’t. Pick. A. Fight.” John straightened, turning to face her. “This man was getting extremely personal with her--”

His repetitions were becoming irritating. “_How_ personal?” Obviously not personal enough for Teyla to intervene.

The next moment, he moved in towards her, his face angled far too close to hers. “_This_ personal,” he said. Elizabeth heard the change in his tone of voice, was close enough to catch the crisp scent of his aftershave, could see very clearly the patterns of hazel in his eyes...

Alarm bells rang down her spine.

This wasn’t usual for John. Physical contact - occasionally, friendly teasing - yes, proximity comfort - without a doubt; but intimacy like this?

She automatically stepped back, a conscious rejection of what he offered. Attractive he might be; but her loyalties were still bound to another man, even if he was galaxies away. “That’s...very personal,” she said, taking care to keep her voice even.

“Which is why I objected,” he said, and was nothing more than the man she’d come to regard with respect and affection. If he noticed her discomfort at his behaviour, the only thing she received from him was a searching look. “Look, I didn’t do anything more than haul him off her.”

Elizabeth regarded him with a sceptical look. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” he said firmly.

She had her doubts. However, she let it go, and rested her arms back on the railing again.

A moment later, he joined her, squinting out to sea. “So are we having the party like Ford suggested?”

“Drs. Matthews, Campbell, and Cohen are arranging it,” she said, referring to the three personnel in charge of mess hall. “They’ll need a couple of days to work out how to cook what the Tabaasi have given us, so we’ll probably have a celebration under the full moon. Or maybe a day or two later.”

“Great,” John said, shifting himself backwards a little and smiling at her. “We could do with something upbeat for a change.”

Elizabeth understood exactly what he meant. They’d been struggling to keep abreast of the situation for the last couple of weeks, trying to determine how much the storm had damaged the city, dealing with the discoveries uncovered by the storm damage, and realising just how difficult their position was in facing the Wraith and keeping the city going at the same time.

Still, amidst the big crises, the smaller threads of life went on. And nothing reminded Elizabeth of this as much as the women sitting in the mess hall, teasing one of the younger women about her love life.

She was sitting at a table that overlooked the balcony when she overheard the conversation.

“...the earth didn’t move for you, then?”

There was a spate of giggles from the women. “The earth wouldn’t have moved,” someone else said archly, her accent - broadly British - marked her out as Val Weissman, working with the technical team. “Although Atlantis might have rocked a little.”

It sounded like someone was choking, and there was laughter and offers of back-patting before another woman asked. “So, what are the regs on this expedition?”

“Regs, Sharon? It’s not like this is the SGC.”

“Maybe not, but most of the eligible men - and by that, I mean the guys actually worth getting in the sack - are military, so they might have ideas about...fraternisation.”

“Well, I guess it’s safe to say that Davison sure got ideas about fraternising with Michelle!”

“And had the cojones to do something about them!” The accent was Midwestern, and the tone teasing. “It’s no fun when they’re all look and no touch.”

“It is no fun when you do not want their interest, though,” said another woman with a slightly sing-song lilt to her voice. South-East Asian. Probably, Alice Singh - her family hailed from Malaysia.

“Yeah, but that’s Cavanaugh,” the Midwestern girl said. “He’s had the bug up his butt since Weir sent him back to the drawing board months ago.”

“Wait, has Cavanaugh been bullying you again, Alice?”

“Again?”

Alice muttered something about possibly misunderstanding his intentions.

“Hon, if it makes you uncomfortable, then it’s not a case of misunderstanding. You say something - to him, to your lab leader, hell - you say something to us!”

“I guess it’s too much to hope that we get to kick the crap out of him?”

Elizabeth bit back a smile. She was the leader of Atlantis, and showing overt favouritism was out of line. That didn’t stop her from having favourites among the personnel. More sobering was Alice’s problem with Cavanaugh, although it seemed that the other women were taking care of it.

“I’ll have a word with Silen,” someone said. “Cavanaugh won’t take advice from many people, but Silen’s one of them.”

“You know, that whole department’s been getting...fresh...in the last couple of days,” Val Weissman noted. “I was checking one of the cultures last night - you know we’ve been keeping track of the remaining bugs we found in that lab - and Janowicz started breathing down my neck. I almost had to shove him away before he moved.”

“Janowicz...doesn’t he have a wife and kids back home?”

“Like that makes a difference out here.”

“You know, the guys in my section have been real touchy-feely lately,” Sharon said, thoughtfully. “Kyle offered me chocolate yesterday.”

“Kyle offered you _chocolate_? And you didn’t _share_?”

“Would you?”

“Okay, I know whose room is getting raided the next time I’ve got cramps!”

Elizabeth smiled to herself. So far from home, certain commodities had become rare and treasured. Coffee was one, chocolate another. She still had a significant stash of chocolate in her quarters, and it would take death or torture to get her to reveal it.

There was the clatter of footsteps and male laughter at the door leading out to the eating area, and a group of marines entered the mess hall, Teyla walking before them. She was speaking with one of the younger men, the tone of her voice low and easy as it spread before her.

She caught Elizabeth’s eye, and finished the conversation with the young marine a moment later. But Elizabeth noted that the young man stared after Teyla as she walked away. And not just the young man, either. A number of the older officers watched her make her way towards Elizabeth.

A number of the officers fixed very intent gazes on Elizabeth, too. More direct than she was used to getting from any of the men in Atlantis - with perhaps the exception of John and Rodney.

It was...unnerving. As unnerving as being brought a cup of coffee or having her personal space invaded.

“That’s Lieutenant Bashiev, isn’t it?”

Teyla nodded as she seated herself opposite Elizabeth. “He was offering to explain the military strategies of some of your battles on Earth.”

“I thought Sergeant Bates objected.” Although the Sergeant had little direct command over the marines, he had a considerable amount of influence, even over the officers; and that reflected in the marines’ attitudes to Teyla.

“That was my understanding,” Teyla said, brushing back a strand of hair. “However, he has once again offered to sit down with me and take me through aspects of your history.” She hesitated, a momentary indecision crossing her face before she spoke again. “Dr. Weir, I have little familiarity with the ways of intimacy between your people. Your customs are different to those of my people, and I have seen a greater attention towards the women in Atlantis of late.”

Elizabeth paused in the middle of her meal. “Do you think Lieutenant Bashiev--?”

“I do not know,” the young woman said simply. She paused again, a little longer this time. “The other day, while sparring against the Major, I noticed unusual behaviours from the men on the base.”

“And Major Sheppard?”

“He was...edgy.” It was not the whole truth, but Teyla would not be willing to divulge more. Elizabeth saw that immediately.

“Do you think his actions on the planet were related to this?”

There was a burst of laughter from the table behind Elizabeth, and she saw Teyla’s eyes flick beyond her shoulder. “I do not know. The Tabaasi man - Istakhon - was solicitous - although his affection was nothing that I have not previously encountered and did not discomfort me as it discomforted Major Sheppard. I believe the behaviour of the Tabaasi men is customary; they seemed to be affectionate towards their women as well.”

“But the Major’s intervention--”

“Is not as usual.” Teyla said.

Elizabeth sat back in her chair, frowning a little. Behind her, she could hear further laughter. Once again, Teyla’s eyes flickered to the group beyond her. Feeling a need to explain, Elizabeth half-glanced over her shoulder. “Some of the other women on the expedition have noticed unusual behaviour from the men. Or,” she corrected, “Less common behaviour from them.”

Teyla was no fool - and was a leader among her people. She was accustomed to seeing behaviour patterns that might be damaging to the community as a whole. Her expression shifted, became alert and intent. “You believe there is reason to be concerned and take action?”

“Concerned, yes,” she said, after a moment. “Taking action...”

She could take some measures now, make inquiries of the section leaders, see Kate Heitmeyer about the mental state of the city, ask the lead military personnel to keep their eyes open for any unusual - particularly among the men. And she’d have to make sure that any men whose behaviour was out of line received appropriate reprimands.

Everyone in Atlantis was in the same boat. That meant getting along and respecting others.

“Dr. Weir,” Teyla interrupted her thoughts, “I did not wish to add to your concerns in mentioning Major Sheppard’s behaviour. I am capable of defending myself if interest such as the Tabaasi men develops among others.”

“What about the women who aren’t capable of defending themselves, Teyla?”

The young woman glanced away to the table beyond. “Today, some of the women approached me regarding self-defence classes. I gave them no definite answer because I was not sure as to whether such a request should be channelled through you or Major Sheppard.”

Elizabeth felt a momentary pleasure that the women had approached Teyla. She knew that the young Athosian found it difficult to fit in among the Earth women. “I think that’s an excellent idea, Teyla,” she said warmly. “If you’re willing to have more than just a few students, then I’m sure that many women will take up the classes.”

Teyla seemed relieved by the answer. “I was not sure to whom I should speak regarding such things.”

“Well, if you don’t have any objections, I can inform the section leaders to spread the news among the women of the base.”

Teyla hesitated, then nodded, as though coming to a decision of her own. “Thank you, Dr. Weir.”

“No,” she said, “Thank _you_, Teyla.”

Given the way things were tending in Atlantis, it would be a start.

And in the meantime, Elizabeth would have conversations with some men of her acquaintance.

Nothing had happened yet. That didn’t mean that nothing ever would.

\--

The midnight hour was no stranger to Carson Beckett. He’d spent several years working the shifts in a doctor’s surgery down in the south of Scotland, seeing men who were brought in during the wee, small hours after a few ales became too many and they took offence where none was given.

However, this was Atlantis.

Colds and flu, injuries gained while running from the Wraith, ATA gene injections, assorted Athosian illnesses, standard feminine complaints, and even killer alien viruses were all familiar to Carson by now.

Patching up marines who’d gotten into a fight with each other was _not_.

The men were practically hauled into the infirmary by Major Sheppard and Sergeant Bates, neither of whom seemed happy about the situation. Both had the harried look of men dragged from their bed to oversee what they considered a minor dispute. Carson could understand that.

He glanced at the man whose cheek had been grazed when his head made a passing acquaintance with a doorframe. “What were you thinking, anyway, fighting at this hour?”

“What were they thinking, fighting at all?” Major Sheppard added.

The answers they received were confusing and confused. The most that Carson managed to gain from it was that there’d been a woman involved.

He stopped packing away the medical equipment and stared, unable to believe what he’d just heard. “You fought over a _woman_?”

The two men looked away, instantly abashed. If they’d been the floor-scuffing types, they’d have scuffed floor.

“They shouldn’t have been fighting at all,” Major Sheppard said with a glare at the man he’d frogmarched in.

“I think they know that, sir,” Sergeant Bates said dryly.

A glance at the Major showed no mollification. “Do they? Two apparently well-trained soldiers fighting over a _woman_?”

There was a note of dark humour in Bates’ voice as he suggested. “Maybe she was a woman worth scuffling over.”

Carson watched in surprise as Major Sheppard’s eyes narrowed slightly at the other man. “Are you condoning their behaviour, Sergeant?”

Sergeant Bates’ expression hardened. “No, I am not, sir. I’m suggesting--”

“That I overlook this breach of conduct because it was over a woman?”

“No, sir.”

The Major tilted his head slightly. “Then what _are_ you suggesting?”

Bates was struggling with something. “Permission to speak freely, sir.”

“Denied.”

With a little alarm, Carson realised that both the marines were bristling slightly as well, although he wasn’t sure if it was at Major Sheppard’s words to Bates, or at each other. Right now, it could have been either, and Carson really didn’t want to find out.

“Permission to get you all out of the office right now,” he interrupted as Sergeant Bates opened his mouth again. “I don’t want a fight in my infirmary, thank you very much.”

There was a tense moment when nobody looked at him. Then Sheppard regarded the two marines. “You’re both on punishment detail until I say otherwise.”

“Sir.” The two marines saluted and departed, leaving Sheppard and Bates regarding each other with wary gazes.

Carson really didn’t like the way the two men were eyeing each other off. If he didn’t say something then he had the feeling he’d end up with the two of them fighting each other before his very eyes. He took a deep breath, then let it out as Dr. Weir walked into the infirmary. Her presence immediately defused the situation.

“Carson,” she said, after a quick glance at the two soldiers. “I heard there was a disturbance. Is everything okay?” She didn’t look pleased, although it was clear she hadn’t been roused from her sleep.

“Everything’s fine, Elizabeth,” Sheppard said before Carson could answer. “We had a small situation, but it’s all cleared up now.” He looked meaningfully at Sergeant Bates. “Right, Sergeant?”

“Sir.”

“Uhuh,” Dr. Weir said, unconvinced. She turned back to Carson, who was feeling more than a little uncomfortable by the undercurrents he could feel in the room. “Doctor?”

He answered her. As the leader of the city, she had to know about things like the morale and state of mind of the personnel in Atlantis. Dr. Heitmeyer kept track of specific people, but Dr. Weir would need to know about the more general emotional state on the base. “A couple of the soldiers got into a fight,” he explained. “They needed a little patching, but nothing serious.”

Frankly, the marines probably hadn’t needed any assistance at all. Not every scratch or bruise required medical attention, and food wasn’t the only set of supplies running low in Atlantis.

“A fight? Over what?”

It didn’t look like either Sheppard or Bates was going to answer her, so Carson spoke up. “Apparently over a woman.”

Dr. Weir blinked, surprised. She looked from the Major to the Sergeant, brows raised in disbelief. “Over a woman?”

“I didn’t get the particulars,” Sheppard said.

“I didn’t either,” Bates added.

“I see,” she said, clearly exasperated. “I trust that this isn’t going to happen again?”

“No, ma’am,” said Sergeant Bates immediately, and glanced at Sheppard, who grimaced faintly.

“It’s being dealt with,” he said.

“Be sure that it is,” Dr. Weir said, clearly dismissing the two men.

Major Sheppard glanced back over his shoulder as he left, as though waiting for her to call him back. Surprisingly, she didn’t. But once they were gone, Carson allowed himself a faint sigh of relief.

“Not what you expected when you set out with this expedition?” Her smile was warm.

“No. But then there were a lot of things I didn’t expect when I set out with this expedition,” he said. “They told me I should read Dr. Fraiser’s notes on her time at the SGC. I didn’t realise just how necessary they would be.”

Dr. Weir nodded, but her mind seemed to be elsewhere. “Has this happened before?”

“Fighting among the soldiers?” He shook his head. “Not that I’ve heard - although it might just be that this is the first time they’ve brought their injuries to me.” Curiosity compelled him to ask, “Why do you ask?”

She was staring at the door through which the other men had left. “No particular reason,” she said, standing up and stretching a little. “Just...noticing something.”

Carson debated a moment, wondering if he should ask what she’d noticed. Dr. Weir made the question moot by asking, “Have you seen anything...unusual...about behaviour around the base?”

“Other than fist fights at midnight?”

She had a lovely smile. “Other than fist fights at midnight.”

He considered the question. “Well, one of my assistants was saying something about her love life taking a turn for the better. To tell you the truth, I didn’t really listen much to what she was saying.” In fact, it was rather odd that he remembered it at all.

Dr. Weir nodded, almost to herself. “It seems that several people’s love lives have taken a turn for the better,” she remarked.

“Yours?” It probably wasn’t exactly polite to ask, but past midnight allowed for some mischievousness. At least, Carson hoped it did.

She laughed, proving him right. “No,” she denied. “Not mine. But...Kate was telling me that several romances seem to be blossoming among personnel. As well as some not-so-welcome advances.”

Carson grimaced. He’d seen indications of a few of them as well, sad though it was. “Have you considered that it might be a kind of...spring fever?”

“I hadn’t. And it is the right season, I suppose.” But something in her expression indicated hesitation.

“You’re concerned about this?”

A shadow flickered across her face. “I just have a feeling about this, Carson.”

“Something rotten in the state of Atlantis?” He ventured.

“Not quite.”

_Not yet._

Carson could hear what she wasn’t yet willing to voice. “If I see anything to give concern, you’ll be the first to know, Dr. Weir.”

Once again, a smile grew on her lips. “I should hope so, Dr. Beckett,” she said in a teasing tone of voice. However, a moment later, she sobered. “I’d also appreciate knowing if there are any...breaches of conduct among the personnel in your section. These things are usually handled by the section leaders, but given a few things lately, I want to know if we’re looking at a pattern here.”

“Like marines fighting over women?”

“Especially like that,” she said, and there was no trace of humour in her voice.

“I can call them back in for some hormone testing tomorrow morning if you think it’s necessary.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Do that,” she said. “If it’s a spring fever, then we can do things to alleviate it - send people out in groups for a day of rest and relaxation.”

“We don’t seem to have too many of them around here.”

Dr. Weir smiled. “No, we don’t. Life seems to have a habit of getting a bit much for us, doesn’t it?”

There was a moment when she looked exhausted, as though she’d kept the weariness of leadership at bay, but now, briefly allowed it to settle upon her. Or maybe that was just Carson’s imagination.

After a moment, he ventured, “Is everything well, Doctor? I mean you look a little peaky...”

Blue eyes fixed on him with surprise. “I’m fine, Carson. Just a little tired.”

“I can give you some sleeping tablets if you’ve been having trouble--” Dr. Weir did a lot for the expedition, keeping track of all the bits and pieces of the city and the people in it. She did a bang-up job, and Carson could only admire her resilience.

A quick shake of the head negated that. “No, thank you. I’m not having trouble sleeping, I was still up.” Her smile was faintly rueful, “I went to ask Rodney a question and ended up listening to him explain his latest theory on the use of diverse power sources to fuel the city’s shields.”

“I’m surprised you’re awake enough to even talk to me,” he said, surprised. “Some of Rodney’s lectures would work as the cure-all for insomnia.”

She laughed briefly as she levered herself to her feet. “He does tend to ramble a little.”

“Nothing that man does is ever a little,” Carson said feelingly. There was no doubting Rodney McKay had his brilliance; however the universe had compensated by leaving out tact, thoughtfulness, or modesty from the scientist’s personality. “The amount of fuss he made over the testing procedures for the food brought back from Tabaasa...”

Dr. Weir smiled. “Do you have the initial results yet?”

“Everything’s clear so far,” he affirmed. “There’ll be more detailed findings available tomorrow, but it looks as though it’s all edible.”

“Nothing that might react to any of the allergies on the base?”

“None that we could determine. There are one or two foods that certain allergenic groups might have to watch out for, but most people shouldn’t have any trouble with them at all.”

“That’s good news,” Elizabeth said, pleased. “I’m surprised there aren’t more things we’d have to watch out for.”

There was an easy explanation for that, and she’d phrased the statement to suggest a question. “Well, the Tabaasi culture hasn’t done any genetic modifications to their food. As a result, the compounds in their food are less likely to react badly with our standard Earth allergies. Of course,” he added, “thousands of years of evolution may mean that we develop reactions to other compounds, but that’s not something we can predict.”

She nodded and stood up, preparing to leave. “Good work, Dr. Beckett.”

“Thank you, Dr. Weir.”

Elizabeth’s smile grew deeper. “Good night, Carson.”

“Good night, Elizabeth.”

\--

Nobody would ever have described Rodney McKay as the most sensitive of people, including Rodney himself.

But there was definitely something going on in Atlantis.

Elizabeth had come to see him last night and asked him something about keeping an eye on his staff. Why she’d asked him, he didn’t know, but he vaguely remembered she’d spoken about section leaders and responsibilities to people. It didn’t seem important when she’d been talking about it - certainly not as important as the work he was doing on the shield generators.

Of course, it gained a little more importance when one of the research assistants burst into tears while working on some very delicate calculations. In between sobs, gulps, and glasses of water, she mumbled something about harassment, and was sent to lie down for a bit.

It was a little irritating to have the quiet concentration of his morning so rudely interrupted, but Kirin was quite distraught, and one of the more level-headed scientists in the project - some of the younger women had a tendency to startle. Rodney considered Kirin one of the best workers in the lab. Of course, she was nowhere near his level of competence, but she did a more-than-adequate job, and only occasionally merited his criticism.

It wasn’t unusual for people to lose it under pressure. Rodney had never done so, but then, he had unusual focus and dedication to his job and a fine sense of his responsibilities to the expedition. And Kirin was nearly hysterical as he patted her shoulder and told her to take a rest.

He didn’t think anything of it until he glanced up from his work and caught one of the older, female scientists staring at him. “What?”

Nobody would ever describe Patricia Kelmar as the most tactful of people. Today was no different. “Are you sick, McKay?”

That was one he hadn’t expected. “Of course I’m sick,” he frowned. “That’s why I’m standing here, doing my work.”

Dr. Kelmar snorted. “A week ago, you’d have told her to get over it and get on with her work.”

“I...” He paused. That _did_ sound more like what he’d have done a week ago. “Sometimes, we have to make allowances for the less dedicated among us.”

Someone deeper in the lab muttered something that he carefully didn’t hear. Yes, Rodney was aware that he was occasionally the butt of jokes about arrogance and self-absorbedness, but he consoled himself with the thought that genius always had its detractors. Besides, they were very much aware of what he did for the expedition - and were probably jealous, too.

Patricia kept giving him odd looks, though, until he paused in his typing and glared at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” she dismissed.

“Well, it’s obviously _something_ since I seem to have suddenly developed into a great interest for you,” he snapped. “Do you want to get it out of the way now or just irritate me for the rest of the day?”

She raised her brows at him. “This morning, Dr. Reznick walked into the mess hall and I’d swear every man in the room sat up a little straighter.”

Rodney blinked. Beth Reznick was small, curvaceous, blonde and bubbly. She was also a viral immunologist and a lesbian. “Well, I have to say, that’s quite understandable, Dr. Reznick is very--”

“Cavanaugh brought Denise Wilcox her morning herbal tea, just the way she likes it.”

Reminded of another cup of beverage he’d recently offered Elizabeth, Rodney began, “Maybe he just happened to--”

“And Sergeant Bates smiled at Teyla when she walked past him this morning in the corridor.”

Okay. _That_ was odd. In spite of any and all reassurances on the part of Teyla or her team-mates, Bates didn’t trust Teyla any further than he could throw her. Smiling was definitely out.

Still. “Is there a point to this litany, or are you just avoiding your work?”

Patricia’s smile was thin. “The guys in Atlantis are acting weird.”

“Weird,” Rodney scoffed. “Tell me, is that a scientific term, Dr. Kelmar, or just a convenient one?”

She shrugged and looked beyond him at one of the lab assistants, whose eyes were nearly as big as her glasses. “You’ve noticed it, haven’t you, Huei?”

“I...” The girl rarely found her voice around Rodney, although she could sometimes be quite helpful. “I...”

Patricia rolled her eyes. “You haven’t snapped at her - or me - half as much as you usually do. And I saw you taking coffee up to Dr. Weir the other morning.” She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear and smirked at him.

Rodney immediately went on the defensive. “For your information...” He paused. “For your information, Dr. Weir is under a great deal of stress.”

The woman looked around the lab at the half-dozen people surreptitiously listening in on the conversation. “Hands up all the people to whom Dr. McKay has taken a cup of his oh-so-precious coffee when they’re under a great deal of stress?”

See, this was _exactly_ the reason why he didn’t usually work with Patricia Kelmar.

“As if that means anything,” he protested when the other people around the lab started to shift in a way that made him nervous. He had a reputation to keep. “Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to say, but a cup of coffee proves nothing. It was a...a convenient gesture.”

“Proves nothing, maybe,” Patricia said. “But it lends credence to my theory that something’s happening to the guys in Atlantis.”

“Credence is a dime a dozen, Kelmar.”

“Yes, and Cavanaugh’s a self-absorbed prick, Bates still eyes Teyla like he’s expecting her to break out the life-sucking appendages, and coffee is rare in the city and getting rarer by the day,” Patricia said. “This is not normal behaviour, McKay. Even from you.” She paused, more for dramatic effect than thought. “_Especially_ from you.”

“That,” he said, “is an insane theory. You’ve taken a series of completely unconnected events and developed some insane theory about them. There’s absolutely no correlation between any of those behaviours. At all.”

She wasn’t looking at him anymore. She was looking past him to the door, and Rodney turned around with a sense of foreboding.

Nobody would ever have described Carson Beckett as the harbinger of doom. Especially not looking as he did: just a little harried and more than a little apologetic as he regarded Rodney.

“What is it?” Rodney snapped, with the uncomfortable feeling that he was about to be contradicted.

Carson hesitated. “I think Dr. Kelmar may be right,” he said.


	2. Chapter 2

Elizabeth and Sheppard were already in the infirmary office when Rodney and Carson arrived.

“Well, I see we’ve got the important people, anyway,” Rodney commented.

The Major raised his eyebrows with sardonic humour. “Beckett, what’s happening?”

Carson took a deep breath. “Well, as you’ve probably noticed, there’s been an increase in outbursts by personnel on the base in the last couple of days. In particular, there’s been quite a few injuries - last night, a couple of marines got into a fight with each other over a minor matter.”

Something about the way Carson spoke made Rodney ask, “A minor matter?”

“They got into an argument over a woman,” Sheppard said.

Rodney stared. “Over a woman?”

“Apparently.” Sheppard shrugged, looking very grim.

“Why on earth would--?” Rodney caught Carson’s glare. “I’m just asking,” he said defensively. Of course, the men were marines - soldiers - so they were trained to be aggressive, but a fight over a woman was just...ridiculous.

Maybe it would depend on the woman?

“At Dr. Weir’s request, I called them in this morning for some hormone tests. We’ve been doing a spate of bloodwork in preparation for this delivery from Tabaasa, so we have records of the hormone tests performed on all the personnel in Atlantis from the last couple of weeks.” Beckett turned the screen he had set up on his desk towards them so they could see the graphs he pulled up across it. “These are the results of one of the hormone tests we ran on him.”

The graph was large and white, with a rectangular grey area running across the bottom and middle of the graph. The X-axis was labelled ‘time’, the a Y-axis was labelled ‘percent’, and there were various lines of various colours running across the graph, marked off at intervals by small dots.

“This point is the results of Lieutenant Darbin’s previous test,” Carson said, indicating a red dot on the edge of the grey rectangle. He traced the mouse along the line that joined it to the next dot. “This point is the result of the test we ran on him this morning. The grey section is two standard deviations from the average.”

Rodney peered more carefully at the graph, aware that both Elizabeth and John were doing the same. The second point was well above the shaded rectangle, and the inclination of the line that joined the two dots was steep.

“Very pretty,” he commented, unable to resist the prod. “But what exactly are we looking at?”

Carson stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“Carson, we’re looking at dots on lines, but there’s no _meaning_ to it. You’ve committed the first sin of clear communication and not told us what we’re looking at. For all we know, this could represent the...the number of fish Corporal Sinclair caught off the north-western pier last week, or the neutron radiation emitting from the black dwarf that’s faintly visible in declension of the solar ecliptic.”

Behind Beckett’s head, Elizabeth gave him a ‘look’ before she turned to him. “It would help us if we knew what the lines represented, Carson.”

Rodney assumed his most inoffensive expression as Carson glared in his direction before he turned back to Elizabeth. “It’s a graph of his testosterone levels from this bloodwork and the last.”

Sheppard was studying the graph with a narrow-eyed interest now. “And the previous bloodwork was...?”

“Last week.” Beckett said. “But it’s not just his levels, either.” He pulled the keyboard over and began typing in commands. A moment later a whole series of lines appeared. Several stopped at the time interval before the one where the Lieutenant’s testosterone levels spiked, but all the lines in the final time interval leaped - in many cases, outside the grey area. “Bloodwork is done regularly for all personnel in Atlantis. As you can see, testosterone has spiked in all the male personnel, no matter where it was before.”

Rodney frowned. “Just the men?”

“Actually, the women are showing it as well. Obviously, not as much as the men, but they’ve got elevated levels.”

“And this has happened in the last week?” Elizabeth asked. “No wonder we’re seeing a higher incidence of fights and arguing in the base.”

“It’s not healthy,” Carson said with blunt forthrightness. “Especially if things keep going this way. We had two personnel in here this morning who fought over a piece of toast.”

John was studying the graph with rather more thoughtfulness than usual. “Fighting over minor things,” he murmured.

“Don’t let any of the women hear you say that, Sheppard,” Rodney pointed out, then caught Elizabeth’s eye and coughed. “Um.”

“It’s not fighting over the women that has me worried,” she said. “It’s the increasing reports of harassment of female personnel by male personnel.”

Sheppard reared his head. “Harassment?”

“By quite a few men,” Elizabeth said. “It may have escaped your notice that the atmosphere in the city is reminiscent of a frat house the last few days, complete with sideways looks, comments, and leers at the women.”

“You know, one of my researchers was saying something about harassment this morning,” said Rodney, remembering Kirin’s breakdown just this morning. This might explain her state of mind - Kirin wasn’t the type to crack under pressure. “Of course, that was after she burst into tears.” Both Sheppard and Carson were staring at him with disbelief. He rolled his eyes. “She wasn’t talking about _me_!”

Sheppard’s stare didn’t abate, and Rodney scowled back at the other man. Just because he wasn’t the most...considerate person around didn’t mean he was a bully! He just...lacked certain sensitivities.

Reminded of Patricia Kelmar’s accusation about his behaviour earlier, Rodney amended that statement. He _usually_ lacked certain sensitivities.

Which he found odd in and of itself.

He wasn’t any kind of a medical officer, but various trivia lingered on in his brain nevertheless. One of them was that testosterone was not a hormone that made men _sensitive_ in any way. In fact, it was liable to do exactly the opposite.

“Have you attempted to isolate what’s causing the hormone changes?” Elizabeth asked, interrupting his train of thought.

“We’ve been in the middle of a spate of bloodwork for allergy testing,” said Carson. “I can run a correlation between the increased testosterone levels and--”

“Do it,” she said, cutting him off, more abrupt than usual.

“Rodney?”

“Carson?”

“I’ll need you to help me with the correlations.”

Rodney opened his mouth in automatic protest. He wasn’t at Beckett’s beck and call!

“Before you do,” Elizabeth interrupted, “I’ll need your help to call the military, scientific, and medical groups in Atlantis together and make several announcements. Some things need to be clearly stated for all personnel on this expedition.”

Something in Rodney noted that Elizabeth looked...well...quite fine when she was in full sail as a leader. Commanding presence, quiet determination, now if she’d only dye her hair blonde...

Of course, it was the testosterone making him react like this; he’d seen her in command-mode many times before. He’d thought her quite impressive then, but this! Oh, this was charisma of a very different kind.

Still, he was one step ahead of Sheppard; he could guess what she wished to say to the troops.

Sheppard frowned and asked, “Matters?”

\--

Teyla cast a watchful eye over the women in her class as they moved through the limbering-up stretches. Most were managing without difficulty, although a wobble here and there amidst the crowd betrayed a momentary lack of balance.

Her ‘self defence’ class was extremely popular. So much so, that the afternoon had seen an overflow of women who had heard of the class and come to partake of it.

The gymnasium had not been capable of such numbers, and she’d had to ask half of them to return after the evening meal.

If anything, the evening class was even more full than the afternoon class.

If the intention of the announcement was to reassure the women of Atlantis, then Teyla considered it a failure. If anything, it had the opposite effect, making the women even less trusting of their colleagues, friends, and acquaintances.

She could see their concerns in their eyes as she showed them how to balance themselves. More than being physically inept, many of the women of Atlantis were mentally off-balance, disconcerted by the subtle change in the men around them. It made them fearful, and yet they hid that fear beneath determination and anger.

She could see their anger in their movements as she stretched them slowly, knowing that many of them were not fighters, nor ever would be. They were not here to learn how to fight against the Wraith; they were not here to learn how to lay Major Sheppard out in staves; in all truth, they were not even here to learn how to defend themselves against their military colleagues.

That had been _their_ goal in taking up the class, however Teyla had swiftly seen that the gap between present state and goal was too large to be easily bridge - especially not in a single class.

So she had changed the aims of the class, just slightly. Here, she would develop the women’s confidence in their physical abilities - a confidence that too many of them lacked, accustomed to the exercises of mind and the discipline of their thoughts, but not the exercise and discipline of the body. Some of the things they would learn could be used in self-defence, but they were nothing more than temporary measures, intended to give them a space in which to flee from such an attacker.

Deep inside, Teyla hoped that there would be no need to use such skills against one of their colleagues in Atlantis. However, she could not guarantee it; and given the more aggressive behaviours of the men, she feared what might happen.

And she could not grant them the peace of mind they wished for in defensive skill.

“Your best hope in an attack is to call for help,” she told them now, as they finished the stretches and she showed them how to ease their muscles. “These moves are only to delay your opponent, to break his grip upon you and give you a head start.”

She saw some nods among the crowd - the few women who had military training understood what she was saying.

Yet in the eyes of many of the others, Teyla saw that they wanted more than this.

So she would give them an example of ‘more than this’.

Even as she began to speak, she saw the eyes of the women flicker to the door, and turned.

“Am I early?” Lieutenant Ford asked, a half-smile on his lips.

“You are just in time, Lieutenant,” she said, smiling in return. It did not escape her notice that the women nearest the door shifted, covering their movements with a desire for a drink of water, or going to speak with someone near them.

At dinner, she had silently debated the wisdom of what she was about to do, even as the conversation of the women at the table flowed around her. In the end, she stayed her course. The women and men of Atlantis would have to live with one another, even if this behaviour continued - _especially_ if this behaviour continued.

Lieutenant Ford approached her, his hands in his pockets. “How’s the class going?” His gaze ranged out over the women, and he nodded at one or two with whom he had a more-than-passing acquaintance.

“We have done our stretches,” she said. “I have showed them some basic moves. Your presence is timely.”

His smile was easy and broad, with less reserve in it than Major Sheppard, and less smugness than Dr. McKay. “My grandma always said I had good timing.”

Teyla raised her voice to cover the chatter that had begun upon the Lieutenant’s arrival. “I asked Lieutenant Ford here to show you some basics of self-defence. It will be easier for you to see how these techniques work when they are employed before you.”

“But he’s--” The woman paused.

“He is a friend,” Teyla said into the silence left behind the stuttering halt of the young scientist’s words. “And he was willing to be part of this demonstration.” In truth, she’d considered asking Major Sheppard, only to decide against it. Aiden was a wiser choice.

She confirmed that choice as she instructed him on how to attempt to grab her, trap her, seize her, and he followed her requests. In turn, she showed the women how to briefly defend themselves against an attacker of any kind.

“But, as I said before, should you be attacked, your best hope lies not in defeating them, but in escaping them or gaining help.”

The gasp of the women warned her of the Lieutenant’s actions a moment before he barrelled into her, taking her down beneath him. She was not quite unprepared for his actions; his restlessness had been clear as they demonstrated the moves for the class. So Teyla used their momentum to roll them over, digging her fingers into the arm that wrapped around her waist. Breath hissed from his throat as her nails found their mark - the nerves beneath the skin - and his arm released her.

She continued the roll when she felt his back hit the ground, landing in a crouch on all fours on the floor of the gymnasium.

“Damn,” was all he said, the dark face settling into a wry smile. “That hurt.”

“It was supposed to,” Teyla answered dryly before she climbed to her feet before the women, still watching around them. Pleasure unfurled within her as she saw their astonished and envious expressions. “That comes after many years of experience and training,” she told them. “You could not expect to be able to defend against such an attack in a week, or even a month.”

“Then why teach us at all?”

“Because a little training is better than none,” said a woman from the back. Teyla did not recall the woman’s name, only that she was one of the few military-trained women on the base. “Even a little training gives you that much more of an advantage when you’re sent off-planet or out to the mainland and you find yourself under attack.”

“And when are we going to find ourselves under attack?”

“Remember Brendan Gaul and Mikey Abrams?” Another woman said. “They weren’t expecting to find themselves under attack when they went out to check the long-range sensors.”

“And you will find there are uses - even about Atlantis,” said Teyla. There was a stir of interest - and concern - and she hastened to alleviate it. Her intention had not been to refer to the current state of tension in Atlantis, but the situation was not far from anyone’s mind - even hers. “A greater range of mobility and flexibility are always valuable - even to those of you who spend much time in your laboratories will find your muscles growing stiff and your bodies under strain. Self-defence is only one reason to learn such things.”

“I doubt that Major Sheppard is taking lessons for self-defence _or _flexibility,” someone murmured, just loud enough to be heard through the room. There were assorted snickers, and Teyla felt her skin grow warm. She reached one hand out to help up Aiden without looking him in the eye, although she could tell that his expression was querying as he regarded her.

Instead, she turned back to the class, reasonably confident that her embarrassment wasn’t too obvious. “I am willing to continue this class every few nights if people wish to continue learning. There is no such physical training available to the women, and I would be glad to assist in this way - if people wish it.”

Several of the women nodded, but others glanced at the door, nervously.

Major Sheppard arched a brow at her, his gaze looking from her to Aiden, standing close beside her. “Teyla. Ladies. Ford.”

“Sir.”

It was not her imagination. If the women had been unsettled when Lieutenant Ford entered, they were very uncomfortable now. “Major?”

“Sorry to interrupt your class, but we’re wanting in the briefing room,” he said without preamble. His gaze took in both Teyla and the Lieutenant. “All of us. Weir’s request.”

Teyla turned back to the class. “I apologise for cutting things short,” she said to the now-restless women. “If you are interested in repeating this class again, then please speak with me sometime in the next couple of days.” A momentary annoyance rose within her at the interruption. She dismissed it. If Dr. Weir had called this meeting, then there was reason for it - and doubtless a good one. Her own preference for remaining and speaking with the other women must take second place.

She preceded Lieutenant Ford out of the room, past Major Sheppard, and caught the hard glance he gave the younger man as she drew level with him.

Such tensions were common about the base these last two days; Teyla had witnessed the same delicate hostility between men who were more usually friends. Seeing it in her team mates, however, was disturbing. Their animosity was minimal, but even that small amount concerned her.

Whatever was happening - and she truly did believe that _something_ was happening - it was not only causing rifts between male and female, but also between individuals.

As they came out of the corridor off which the gym lay, she turned her head a little. “Are you aware of Dr. Weir’s reasons for calling this meeting now, Major?”

“I’ve got my suspicions,” was his only reply.

His answer did nothing to alleviate her concern. Nor did the watchful gazes of the male personnel they met as they walked through the city.

Attuned to body language, Teyla cast her gaze slowly past the men, making eye contact where their gazes clashed with hers. She offered neither challenge, nor submission: only the flat, hard acknowledgement that she saw them. Nothing more.

Behind her, she could feel the tension in her team-mates, watching her and the other men with wary gazes. Had any man offered challenge, she had little doubt that either Major or Lieutenant would have taken it up in an instant.

This behaviour was far from normal.

Teyla had never felt quite as alien to the people of Earth as she did now. They had seen her, measured her when she and her people first arrived in Atlantis, and many had dismissed her. Yet never before had their scrutiny been so unnerving - not even when she had been under suspicion as a Wraith spy.

It was a relief to reach the briefing room and feel the doors slide shut, blocking out the probing gazes of the men so changed from who they were.

Of course, there were other men here; both Dr. McKay and Dr. Beckett looked up from where they hovered over Elizabeth Weir’s shoulder. Still, at least there were none of the undercurrents as she’d felt them walking through Atlantis with the Major and the Lieutenant.

Dr. McKay seemed quite normal, fussing over his laptop, occasionally grunting and making noises of satisfaction and annoyance as he did whatever he was doing. Dr. Beckett twitched his eyebrows at her as though to ask a question. She gave him a quick smile and a nod to reassure him. He was a nice man, a little anxious, but polite and courteous and friendly.

Elizabeth Weir glanced up at them. “Thank you for coming up here so promptly,” she said, and her eyes rested on Teyla. “I’m sorry to have interrupted your class. I heard you had to schedule a second one.”

Teyla nodded as she took a seat, absently noting that her companions flanked her on either side of the table - just as the other men flanked Dr. Weir. “I believe it may become a regular class.”

Dr. Weir nodded. “I think it’s something that the base needs.”

“I’d say the base certainly needs something,” Dr. McKay said, looking up from whatever he was studying on Dr. Weir’s screenboard.

“And in your case it’s a good kick in the head,” muttered Dr. Beckett.

“Excuse me, just because I didn’t notice the first set of correlative data--”

“If you hadn’t been mooning over Dr. Cheek, we’d have had the connection hours ago--”

“Doctors!” Dr. Weir cut through their arguing, regarding first one, and then the other with unconcealed irritation.

Neither man apologised, although they glared at each other. Teyla hid a wince. Perhaps the undercurrents between Dr. McKay and Dr. Beckett were not those of Major Sheppard and Lieutenant Ford, but they were no less discordant.

“So, _are_ we going to get an explanation of what’s going on?” The Major asked from beside Teyla.

Dr. Beckett shot Dr. Weir a quick glance, to which she nodded. “I explained that the personnel of the base are showing elevated levels of testosterone right now.”

Not to Teyla. And not, apparently, to Lieutenant Ford, whose eyebrows had risen on his forehead.

“Testosterone is a hormone that is released in human bodies,” Dr. Beckett said, turning to Teyla. “We generally call it the ‘male hormone’ since men have it in significantly greater amounts than women. But right now, it seems everyone in Atlantis is showing high levels of testosterone.”

Teyla nodded, although she wasn’t entirely sure of what that would mean. The others appeared to understand, however, and she didn’t wish to interrupt his explanation at this point.

Others were not so inclined.

Major Sheppard narrowed his eyes. “Seems?”

“We haven’t been able to test everyone,” Dr. Beckett protested. “But from all the data we have, and from the behaviour about the base--”

“_What_ behaviour about the base?”

It was Dr. McKay who answered. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe the way the military personnel have been roughing up any civilian, male or female, that happens to get in their way?”

“But Beckett said that all personnel who were showing higher testosterone levels, not just the military,” said Aiden.

“Lieutenant, try to understand this. The people who go into the military have a predisposition towards violent behaviours in the first place. It’s a case of circular cause and effect.”

There was a gesture Teyla had seen performed by quite a number of people around Atlantis at various times. In order to indicate their exasperation or irritation with someone, they slapped the heel of their hand against their forehead. Both Drs. Weir and Beckett looked as though they very much wished to perform this action now as Major Sheppard regarded McKay with a slowly growing expression of disbelief. “A _predisposition_?”

“From all the data we have and the behaviour about the base - both male and female - it seems that _all_ personnel in Atlantis have higher-than-usual levels of this hormone,” Dr. Weir said, raising her voice and looking pointedly at both military leader and scientific expert.

“McKay was singling out the military personnel.”

“It goes further than the military personnel, John, although they _are_ the ones showing the most markedly different behaviour.”

“So you agree--”

Teyla was not inclined to listen to Major Sheppard mount an argument with Dr. Weir. Dr. Beckett had identified a problem in the behaviour of the people in the city. There must be a reason they had been called here to listen to it.

“Dr. Beckett,” she said, addressing him directly and ignoring Major Sheppard’s diatribe, “you have stated that this...substance is affecting the behaviour of the city’s inhabitants. Do you know what has caused it?”

He seemed relieved that someone had brought up the issue again. “Yes,” he said.

“So, what is it?” Lieutenant Ford demanded.

Dr. Beckett sighed. “The first increase in testosterone we have on record comes the day after you returned from Tabaasa. Almost overnight, personnel started showing signs of elevated testosterone levels, and the behaviour patterns we’ve been witnessing - aggression, boldness, conflict - began to show shortly after.”

Judging by the expressions on the faces of Dr. McKay, Major Sheppard, and Lieutenant Ford, this was news to them. It seemed Dr. Weir was already aware of this, for she was, if not serene, certainly accepting of Dr. Beckett’s news.

“You believe that our trip to Tabaasa has produced the effect that we are seeing here?” Teyla asked, just to be certain she had understood his words.

“It’s the most rational explanation,” Dr. Beckett said.

“It’s _not_ the most rational explanation,” Dr. McKay said, looking at the other man as though he’d just pronounced a dire indictment on one of McKay’s pet theories. “It’s the most convenient--”

“It fits the facts.”

“It fits nothing--”

“The second time you returned from Tabaasa, you said that Major Sheppard had indulged in a comparative testosterone contest, Rodney,” Dr. Weir interrupted.

Dr. McKay looked surprised. “Did I?”

“Yes,” she said. “You did.” Dr. Weir turned to Teyla. “Teyla, do you remember anything else that the woman said to you when she gave you the warning?”

“Hatiana’s words?” Teyla sifted through the memories, trying to identify anything that might help. “Very little, I am afraid.”

“Anything you can remember might help.”

She closed her eyes and thought back to that afternoon on the planet, trying to conjure up the sights and scents and sounds of the day so she could better recall what had been said. “We...we were speaking of the seasons,” she said at last, opening her eyes. “Of seasonal...no, lunar cycles. She had mentioned the waxing of the moon. Then she gave the warning.”

“About the _tinael_,” Dr. Weir murmured.

“And that was it?” Major Sheppard asked.

“That is all I remember,” Teyla said. She looked at Dr. Weir whose forehead had creased in a faint frown. “I am sorry, Dr. Weir, but I do not recall the specific words she used or what she might have meant by them.”

The other woman shook her head, dark curls dislodging from behind her ears. “You remembered what you could, Teyla.”

“But it is not enough.”

“No.” A grim expression came over Dr. Weir as she turned to Major Sheppard. “Major, we _need_ more information about what is happening in Atlantis.”

“And the place to get that is Tabaasa.”

“The place to get that is Tabassa.” She glanced at the timepiece on her wrist. “It’s a little late to send you out right now, but first thing in the morning, you’ll set out for Tabaasa again.”

“And this time we get the answers to our questions,” Major Sheppard said. He sounded quite grim about it, and Teyla regarded him with some caution.

Of course, Dr. McKay was not customarily one for caution. “Wait. You’re sending us back _there_? The planet that’s caused all this trouble from the start, and you’re sending us _back_?”

“Makes sense,” Lieutenant Ford said with something like a shrug, although he didn’t look much happier about it. “Go back to where the problem started.”

“And probably find ourselves in even more trouble?”

“Rodney.” Dr. Weir silenced him with a single word, then continued. “Tonight, all personnel are to stay in their quarters, with the exception of a skeleton crew who will be manning the Stargate and Dr. Beckett who will be manning the infirmary. No exceptions will be made.”

“So we’re basically under curfew?” Major Sheppard looked as though he might rebel, but another glance from Dr. Weir curbed him.

“Unless you have a better idea,” she said firmly, “yes.”

\--

Looking back, curfew _hadn’t_ been a good idea.

The people of Atlantis dragged themselves out of their quarters this morning, tense and watchful of each other, strangers to the people whom they’d trusted only a week ago.

Not that there’d been any _better_ ideas than a curfew.

Not that Rodney had been given any _time_ to come up with a better idea. If he’d been made aware of the problem at the start then he could have done something about it. After all, he was the man for solutions on the base, right?

Okay, well, _technical_ solutions, anyway.

As they stepped out into the pollen-filled air of Tabaasa, Rodney huffed, settled his hat more firmly on his head, and tried not to imagine he could feel the pollen setting off his allergies.

From the rise where the Stargate stood, the kitchen gardens were clearly visible with their circular garden beds and sawdust paths. Rodney had explained things like fertilisation techniques and chemical pesticides to them the last time they’d been here, and while they’d listened intently, they’d professed themselves dissatisfied with his explanations and promised that there would come a time when they’d sit down and let him explain things more fully.

Then they’d loaded his arms up with fruit and vegetables and sent him back to Atlantis with testosterone poisoning.

Well, at least it was better than his reaction to lemon.

Although, ‘better’ was probably subjective. He suspected that neither Teyla, nor Elizabeth would agree with him on that point. Certainly few of the women in Atlantis would. Most had stayed in their rooms this morning, refusing to come out, even once daylight spread through the city.

Personally, Rodney thought such measures unnecessary. The trigger to the behaviour patterns was not night-time - there was no undue increase in violence at night - but the waxing of the moon; a steady build-up over the last week of ‘influence’ to the fullest moment of the moon early tomorrow morning before it began to wane again.

“Spot anyone you recognise?” Sheppard asked from beside him, his binoculars already up.

Rodney fumbled in his vest for his own binoculars. Damn flak jackets. So many pockets and you always picked the wrong one first. He wrestled them out and began looking for someone he recognised - or something untoward. They would have seen the Stargate opening - on the hill, it was nearly impossible to miss. There should be people coming towards them sooner or later...

Further down the steps, Teyla was shading her eyes against the midmorning sun. There was a very directed purpose about her - the same kind of purpose that he’d seen in Elizabeth’s stance this morning as she called together the military personnel and sent them out to various solitary planets, hunting fresh meat.

Rodney had to hand it to her; it was a brilliant idea. She’d not only found a way for the testosterone-pumped males to work out much of their aggression during the day, she’d also managed to get them out of Atlantis and into a competition of sorts: which group could bring back the most game?

It almost made Rodney wish he’d gone. He could have rigged up a trap that would capture all the game they could possibly need...

He’d just put the binoculars to his eyes when Teyla spoke.

“Hatiana has seen us.” One hand pointed to a woman who was making her way up the broad slope towards them. “She is coming to meet us.” She started down the steps, only to be hauled back a moment later.

“Teyla,” Sheppard said warningly. “You’re not going anywhere without at least one of us.”

She pulled her arm from his grip. “Going anywhere was never my intent, Major.”

“Then where did you think you were heading just now?”

There was definitely something happening between those two, Rodney decided, peering back through the binoculars at the people working in the gardens. He saw a few others turn towards the hill and point up at them.

“--long as you’re not putting yourself in danger--”

“That is not your concern,” Teyla was saying with rigid softness. “As you well know, I am more than capable of defending myself--”

“Against one man, yes. Against many--”

“Um, sir?” Ford interrupted the growing argument between them. “I think we’re gaining company.”

Hatiana had reached them, breathless and anxious. The woman looked at Teyla, “I told you not to return here for several days more.”

“Yes,” Teyla said immediately. “But you did not say why.”

The Tabaasan woman looked at Teyla, then looked at the others. Her gaze lingered a moment more on McKay before she turned back to Teyla. “Because it is not safe for you! Did you not understand my warning?”

“You said that the _tinael_ shouldn’t return,” Sheppard said brusquely. “That’s not exactly a clearly-phrased warning. What’s a _tinael_?”

Hatiana stared at him, then at Teyla, a dawning alarm in her eyes. “You,” she said, pressing her hand to Teyla’s shoulder. “You are _tinael_! The men sense that - the waxing moon ensures they are aware of it. You must leave. Now.” Her fingers closed around Teyla’s wrist and she pulled her over to the DHD. “What is the code for your planet?”

Rodney was wondering if he could actually remember the few moves of self-defence he’d been taught by Sergeant Koslovska while in Siberia - and how much use they’d be to him against the men storming up the hill.

Teyla was still speaking to Hatiana, “We cannot leave yet.”

“You must!” The woman was increasingly agitated by their lack of action. “The last time we had a _tinael_ amongst us at the full of the moon, the men would not stop - could not stop - and she died. This I know, for my grandmother tried to warn her and her people to go, but they would not, not believing what we told them.”

“But what--”

“Listen to me!” The urgency in her voice caught Rodney’s attention as Hatiana dragged Teyla around and gripped her arms. “Untouched ones do not survive the full moon - it brings madness upon the men - even during the day. As the moon wanes, it is well, but as the moon grows, the presence of _tinael_ only incites the men further.”

_Tinael_... Rodney was fitting things together in his mind, and the pattern that was forming was very much not one he liked. At all.

He looked at the crowd still climbing the hill, getting closer and closer - close enough to see individual faces. They were mostly men, with a few women among them. The men looked...aggressive, with frighteningly eager expressions on their faces. The women looked anxious or tearful, trying to hold back the men with hands that weren’t doing a very good job of hindering the tide that flowed up the hill.

Rodney made a decision right that instant.

He pushed past Sheppard on his way to the DHD. His stomach was suddenly feeling heavy, and his heartbeat was increasing.

“McKay?” It was a question.

“I’m dialling out now.”

“McKay...” Now Sheppard’s tone of voice was a warning.

He didn’t look around, didn’t stop in his progress to the DHD, but his voice was harsh and loud as he answered. “Major, either we leave now or things get _really_ bad!”

Sheppard hadn’t heard that tone of voice from him more than a handful of times, but he’d heard it often enough to know Rodney McKay was _really_ worried.

And when Rodney McKay was _really_ worried, things were _bad_.

He began dialling Atlantis, then switched sequences halfway through and dialled another planet. Empty, but one on which there’d been recent Wraith activity. The Wraith wouldn’t return so soon after they’d culled the place, so it would be reasonably safe. Besides, they really wanted nothing more than a pit stop.

As he pressed the last of the glyphs, the first and fastest of the men crested the hill.

Two shots presaged the particle explosion as the event horizon connected - Sheppard’s attempt to warn the men away.

“Major, I wouldn’t suggest killing any of them,” McKay yelled as the Stargate settled to the rippling blue-green surface.

“So I’ll just shoot them somewhere non-fatal?” Sheppard retorted. “Ford, grab Teyla and...”

The Tabaasans had checked at the first shots, uncertain of this new weapon that could be used against them. But the sight of Ford moving to take Teyla’s arm was too much for them, and before Sheppard could complete the sentence, the Tabaasans swarmed over them.

Then it was all chaos.

Rodney was in a difficult situation. He was a scientist, not a fighter. At present, the men were only attacking Teyla and the others - and they didn’t really need his help in fighting...

Oh, jeeze.

He was no good with a gun unless the target was asking to be shot. Besides, he didn’t want to kill the natives, just get them away from Teyla long enough to effect an escape. So Rodney left the safety catch on, and began using the butt of the weapon as a club instead. His club wasn’t as effective as Teyla’s P-90, but it did enough of a job giving the Tabaasan men pause as he flailed about where he could.

Someone’s fist clipped his ear, and he winced, but struck out with his elbow in someone’s groin as he went down. Dirty tactics, but sometimes you needed to be underhand.

Somehow - he was never sure exactly how - he found himself near Teyla as she lashed out at the men attacking her. Beyond her, Sheppard and Ford were also fending off the natives - with considerably more skill and grace than McKay.

“Teyla!” He yelled. “Go through the gate!”

Stupid, stubborn woman didn’t move an inch as she swept a man’s legs out from beneath him and took a step back. “But what about--?”

“If you go through the gate then we can deal with these and follow,” Sheppard yelled. “Dammit, Teyla, just _go_!”

As she shoved the man trying to grope her into the ones behind, Rodney took the opportunity to step in front of her, giving her a moment in which to get through the Stargate unimpeded. Then someone punched him in the solar plexus.

_Ow._ Rodney was pretty sure he was going to yak his breakfast...

A moment later, there was a hand on his collar, hauling him back. It didn’t help the nausea, but it gave him something else to think about for a few moments. His boot heels kicked out, trying to regain his balance as Sheppard slammed the muzzle end of his gun into a shoulder. “No need to get pushy, now,” he snapped. “McKay?”

It took Rodney a moment to realise that the men had, if not stopped advancing, were at least not attacking. The little part of him that was always analysing the world around him said, _That’s interesting._ The much bigger part of him that had taken a fist to the belly said, _Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow_.

“Ow,” he managed.

“Ford?”

“Retreating, sir.” A moment later, there was a soft gurgle as Ford went through.

Two gone, two to go.

Sheppard faced the crowd and waved the P-90 in a way that was plainly threatening. “We’re going to leave now,” he said, in the tone of voice that meant he was _really_ pissed. “And believe me, we’ll think twice about coming back.”

A few moments later they were on P72-U44, in the middle of a red desert.

The advantage of Stargate travel was that the cold had helped his gut. The disadvantage of Stargate travel was that now Rodney _really_ felt like getting rid of his breakfast.

Still, he couldn’t resist the chance to jibe Sheppard. “Only twice?”

He got a brief, solid glare from Sheppard. “This doesn’t look like Atlantis.”

Rodney stood up and took a deep breath. Various abdominal muscles protested vigorously, and he hunched back over. “That would because it _isn’t_ Atlantis, Major,” he said dryly.

“Dr. McKay?” Teyla said, stepping past Ford and Sheppard to regard Rodney with concern. “You are injured?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he dismissed. “A slight bruise.” He drew himself up, almost hoping that the pain wouldn’t evince itself a second time, only to wince when it did. “Okay, it’s a slight bruise that hurts a lot.”

“They’ll have something for it in the infirmary,” Ford said, coming up beside Teyla.

“Which is in Atlantis,” Sheppard said, “where we aren’t. Rodney?”

Rodney regarded the other man with irritation. Just because Sheppard had gotten out of the wrong side of the wormhole was no reason to inflict his bad mood on others. “There wasn’t time to send the shield code through before we had to get out of there, Major. It was here or on the backside of the shield.” He grimaced. “Besides, even if we could have gone directly through, it would have been a bad idea.”

“And why would that be?”

“Because I know what’s happened to those people – and I know what’s happening to Atlantis.”

\--

“It’s probably in their air,” Rodney explained from his infirmary gurney. “Maybe a dust vector - or that pollen that gets everywhere. You might like to check our clothing for traces of pollen, Carson.”

Carson grunted, somewhat sourly. The man had a lot of work to do on his bedside manner - not at all encouraging. Upon their return, the doctor had proclaimed that there was nothing wrong with him. When Rodney pointed out the pain in his stomach, Carson handed him the tube of bruise cream and told him to rub it in himself.

“And the link between this...virus and the _tinael_?” Elizabeth asked from the end of the bed. Sheppard, Teyla, and Ford were perched on the next bed over. The two men were sitting comfortably shoulder-to-shoulder with Teyla, who was holding herself rather tensely between them.

While they had their own cuts and bruises from the fight, they seemed to be more used to such mistreatment - all that warrior-military training stuff that Rodney had ignored in favour of much more interesting things.

“Now Hatiana specifically said Teyla was _tinael_. And later she said, ‘the untouched ones don’t survive the full moon’ and that when the moon waned things got better.”

Elizabeth looked from Rodney to Teyla. “The untouched ones?”

Teyla shrugged. “I understood her words no better this time than last.”

Great. Now he was going to have to explain this. “Beckett, what are the side effects of testosterone? Say, testosterone injections.”

“Well, more energy, I suppose. Most men show increased aggressiveness and appetite, physical and sexual--”

“Interest in women?”

“Or whatever gender they’re attracted to,” Carson allowed. “Yes.”

“But the behaviour of the men doesn’t quite match that,” Elizabeth said. “If anything, some of the men have been quite courteous.” Rodney caught her glance and puffed up a little - until he caught Sheppard’s narrow-eyed glare.

“Actually, I’ve taken that into account. The virus doesn’t _just_ increase testosterone, it gives a kind of...sensitivity to females.”

Ford was frowning slightly. “Why only females?”

Interest had appeared on Carson’s face, as he began, “Well, I suppose--”

“Breeding purposes,” Rodney said succinctly. At the chiding look Elizabeth gave him, he defended his choice of words. “More years spent being productive, remember?”

She seemed more amused than offended at the way he brought up what she’d said the first time they returned from Tabaasa. “And that sensitivity would be most marked towards the women with maximum childbearing possibilities.”

He coughed. Time to say it out loud. “The ‘untouched’ as Hatiana said - the _tinael_.”

They stared at him blankly.

Oh, good grief, was he going to have to _spell_ it out for them?

Then understanding dawned on Elizabeth’s face, with Sheppard’s realisation a moment later.

Rodney took a distinct pleasure in the expression on the Major’s face: quite discomforted at the realisation. Given the behaviour of the men around the base - particularly the military ones - Rodney was willing to bet half his remaining coffee stash that Sheppard had...what was the term? Oh, yes, ‘put the moves’ on Teyla under the influence of whatever they were under now.

And was embarrassed by his actions.

“Teyla’s a--?” Ford wasn’t able to finish the sentence, and although it was nearly impossible to tell with his skin, he might have been flushing.

Teyla regarded her team-mate with a little disbelief and a little amusement. “My people are not as...casual with their affection as yours.”

“Yeah, but--” Ford was shaking his head.

“So this testosterone increase--”

“Actually, it’s not just an increase in testosterone,” Rodney pointed out.

Elizabeth agreed. “We’re seeing a broader range of behaviours than just aggression or sex drive.”

Carson nodded, “This virus, then, makes men particularly...uh...sensitive to the ‘untouched’ - the _tinael_.” Carson said. “But to women who aren’t...uh...” He glanced at Elizabeth, unsure of how to describe the difference. His flush was far more obvious than Ford’s.

She was smiling faintly. “Women who’ve had sex?” Her voice was rich with wry amusement. “_Tinael_ seems to be a useful word for denoting something that our society doesn’t mention in casual conversation.”

“Well, it’s no laughing matter,” Rodney reminded them. “Remember all those testosterone-pumped males you sent off to do some huntin’, shootin’, and fishin’?” They sobered up swiftly, realising the import of what he was saying. “It’s a full moon over Atlantis, tonight. And Hatiana was emphatic about Teyla not staying on Tabaasa.” He didn’t quite shudder as he reminded them, “She said the last time they had a _tinael_ on Tabaasa, the men couldn’t stop and she died.”

“Couldn’t stop _what_?” Sheppard demanded. He looked away as Rodney raised an eyebrow asking if he _really_ wanted it said out loud.

“Wait,” Ford said. “We’ve been around Teyla all day. But the Tabaasans were actually _attacking_ her.”

“Easy,” Rodney said. “They live on the planet - they breathe whatever the stuff is every day. And,” he added, “they’re not used to holding off. After all, they marry their girls off young to avoid this issue.”

“It’s _one_ kind of solution, anyway,” said Elizabeth, just a little grimly.

“Not much of one,” Sheppard muttered.

“But better than rape,” Teyla said with quiet calm.

The expressions around the room indicated a wholehearted agreement with that.

“You know,” Rodney added, realising something else, “it probably _is_ the pollen - we would have tracked it in when we returned both times.” And even when he’d been on the planet, he’d _felt_ the stuff doing bad things to him. Well, bad things to his sinuses, anyway.

“And a little is enough to infect the whole base,” Elizabeth said, almost to herself. “We won’t be able to trade with them in future.”

“Oh, there should be no problem trading with them,” Rodney corrected. “We’ll just have to be careful of when we go to the planet and whom we send.”

“But wouldn’t the food be...infected, too?”

He looked at Sheppard, not bothering to hide his exasperation. “We didn’t eat any of the food - remember?”

“Teyla did.”

“One fruit,” she pointed out. “And it was something I recognised from among my people.”

“But you still let Istekhon feed it to you.”

“There was no ‘letting’ him, Major,” Teyla replied stiffly. “It was something he would do.”

Rodney had the feeling they’d bicker over this for hours if they were allowed. More on Sheppard’s part than Teyla’s - the Major had a distinctly tenacious streak at times.

“I think we’re getting off track here,” Elizabeth said to them, before looking to Carson. “Carson, can we do anything to help the situation medically?”

“I’m afraid not, Dr. Weir. We simply don’t have the resources.”

She nodded, as though she’d expected nothing less. “So we’ll have to weather it out and see if it goes away as the moon wanes?”

“I don’t think we have much choice,” the doctor admitted. He looked fairly grim as he spoke. “However, it might be wise if the women leave the base this evening. Perhaps to head out to the mainland or off-world.”

Elizabeth nodded. “The mainland isn’t an option.” She raised a hand as Teyla began to speak. “I’m not suggesting your people wouldn’t take us in, Teyla. I know they’d be willing to offer us hospitality. The truth is that we don’t have enough female pilots to take all the ships to over the mainland.”

And taking less than all the ships would be asking for trouble - especially if one of the men with the ATA got it into his head to go looking for the women.

“Off-world, then?”

“Considering you want to go somewhere where we can’t follow, off-world would be a very bad idea.”

“Not if you erased the system memory of where we went,” said Elizabeth.

“Elizabeth, in case it’s escaped your notice, I am a man,” he said. It was a measure of how much this ‘sensitivity’ thing was changing him that he didn’t say it with his usual sneer. “That makes me one of the enemy. Really, you shouldn’t even be discussing this in the same room as us.”

Teyla shook her head. “I do not believe the distinction is that simple.”

“I’m in agreement with Teyla,” Elizabeth said, nodding briskly. “We’ve had an assortment of behaviours displaying themselves in the last couple of days - not all of them are brutal or violent. It’s more than just testosterone--”

“Which is why we’re calling it a ‘virus’ rather than ‘testosterone poisoning’,” Rodney added. “But whatever you call it, you shouldn’t assume that we’re safe just because we’ve shown no sign of wanting to tear clothes off and beat our chests.”

She hesitated, then nodded. Good.

“_Poisoning_?” Ford asked, incredulously.

“Tear our clothes off and beat our chests?” Sheppard said.

Elizabeth’s mouth twitched. “Personality and training might have something to do with it. Most of the incidents we’ve had have involved military personnel.”

“That’s pure conjecture,” said Rodney. “And not important at this point.” He looked at Elizabeth, “Off-world for the night, then?”

She nodded. “I think so.”

\--

It had never been the best of plans in the first place.

However, Elizabeth didn’t see much choice in the matter. The behaviour of the Tabaasan men was deeply disturbing - all the more so since she’d had five complaints of harassment today, only three of which had been prompted by military personnel. Aggression wasn’t limited to the military; the military was simply the organisation that honed and directed that trait most clearly.

And, on the whole, she figured it would be better to be out of the city when the military personnel returned from their hunting trips. While the behaviours expressed by the men on base showed no serious harassment of other men, it was a vastly different matter when it came to their female colleagues.

_The men couldn’t stop and she died._

That could be Teyla. Nearly _had_ been Teyla, according to her team’s report of what had happened on Tabaasa. Elizabeth had restrained a shudder as John, Rodney, and Lieutenant Ford told the tale, and Teyla added her statements or mitigated her team-mates’ words. The young woman seemed much calmer about what had nearly happened than her team-mates. Elizabeth envied her the tranquillity.

Between John and Rodney’s unusual tactility, she had little of her own.

While Teyla and Kate Heitmeyer got the women organised for the trip out - assisted by John and Lieutenant Ford, Elizabeth worked in the control room with Rodney, Peter Grodin, and Sergeant Winsor setting up the dialling computer to delete the address of the next outbound wormhole in preparation for their overnight jaunt.

Carson had come up with the idea of practising his flying ability, such as it was, and dragged out two other scientists who possessed the Ancient gene - as well as quite a few other people who were invited to come along ‘just for a ride’.

Coinciding with a dinner call, quite a lot of their preparations were done without most of the men noticing their industry. The less people who knew about this, the better.

And then all their plans came to nothing.

They had the women assembled in the gateroom, their packs set up, and Elizabeth was just clearing the men out of the control area, when the Stargate began dialling.

“Incoming wormhole,” Peter reported, looking up at Elizabeth.

Rodney grimaced. “It’s probably the hunters.”

“They’re early.”

“Well,” said Rodney, “they’ve got a base full of women to return to.” He got several grim looks for that comment, and shrugged. “I’m just pointing out that--”

“Never mind,” Elizabeth told him._ Very well. Let’s skip to plan B._ “Keep them from coming through for a minute,” she told Grodin.

The technician looked up, slightly surprised at her request. “How?”

“I’ll do it,” Rodney said, adjusting his headset. “Go.”

She shot him a grateful smile as she passed him on her way down to the floor where John was standing by Teyla.

“Dr. Weir?”

“Change of plans,” she said simply. “I think the D-wing should be big enough to hold us through the night.” So it would probably be something like a massive slumber party, but at the least, they’d all be in one place together.

“Too many ways in and out of there,” John objected.

“Then we shall set guards,” Teyla said. She turned on her heel and began speaking to the women nearest her, who were watching the whole situation with interest and nervousness.

John glared after her, then turned back to Elizabeth. “That’s a lot of guards.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“No.”

The shield buzzed into existence over the Stargate as the wormhole connected with a flash of light but no particle explosion. Women began moving past them in a steady stream, walking with brisk strides and anxious expressions.

Elizabeth made to join them, but was stopped when John caught her arm.

“Elizabeth.” He was very much in her personal space, but the knowledge of what was infecting him made a difference; she didn’t step away from him now. “Be careful.”

“We will.”

Up in the control room, Rodney was gabbling something about shield malfunctions, and while Elizabeth couldn’t hear the exact words, she had no trouble distinguishing the tone of the person speaking to him. He caught her eye and waved her away, and she paused and looked back at John.

“Major, you’ll be the restraining influence on the military personnel--”

“I know,” he said. “Trust me.”

It wasn’t as though she had much choice in the matter.

As the last few women jogged past her, and Rodney spun various stories to whoever was on the other side of the wormhole, Elizabeth fell into step at the end of the line, grabbing the pack she’d put together in preparation for the evening and swinging it up onto her back

Their pace was swift, and the journey long. Teyla seemed to be leading them through a winding route that passed through the least-inhabited sections of the city, avoiding the medical labs, the science labs and the mess hall, where most of the men were presently at dinner.

The long train of women, carrying packs and bedrolls, and armed with Wraith stunners, moved quickly and quietly through Atlantis to their destination. It disturbed Elizabeth that a week ago this retreat would have been unthinkable. Now, she found herself glancing behind her in oversensitive paranoia.

_It’s just the virus,_ she told herself as they passed through the corridors.

It was not an entirely encouraging thought.

Her mind was already moving through the ramifications of the virus and what it might mean for Atlantis. The mental and emotional state of both men and women would be different after this, no matter what did or didn’t happen. At the least, more than a few of the women would have difficulties in trusting the men in future situations. At the worst, she might be facing a divided command, with most of the men on one side, most of the women on the other, and only a handful of people willing to cross the divide.

Dr. Heitmeyer would find her hands full after tonight, either way.

Elizabeth set a mental memo to pull up a list of the medical personnel who had psychology degrees - male and female - there was no reason Kate should have to do all the counselling by herself.

The column of women moved through a section she recognised as the passage to one of the outlying arms of the city. They were approaching their destination.

So far, the outermost sections of the wing assigned as ‘D-wing’ had been unused by the expedition personnel. Other than a quick initial exploration of this section of the city, they hadn’t gotten around to using it.

For tonight, it would be a safe haven for the women of Atlantis.

As she reached the outermost rooms of the wing, two young women were waiting for her by one of the doors, one military, one scientific. It was the military one that addressed her first. “Ma’am?”

“Sergeant Winsor?”

“Becca’s prepped the door codes for you to imprint,” she said, indicating the panel beside the sliding doors. “Once you fix them, then they’re locked.”

“We won’t be able to get out but they won’t be able to get in either,” the second young woman added. “Lieutenant Gormley suggested it and Teyla agreed - subject to your authorisation.”

Elizabeth appreciated the consideration of Teyla’s gesture. “What do I do?”

A few minutes later, the whole wing was locked down, the control codes from the central system overridden by the codes Elizabeth had entered.

The scientist checked a few things on the nearest console and was satisfied when the lights flashed red. “We’re secure.” She grinned at her companions in relief and pleasure.

Elizabeth smiled back, showing none of her reservations until after the two younger women were gone ahead.

Even if the doors were coded shut, that didn’t necessarily mean they were secure. After all, Petersen had made his way through the city while it was locked down by overriding the locks. And this wasn’t just one paranoid scientist, but an expedition’s worth of men.

_You know that being cynical doesn’t help,_ said a voice in her mind. It sounded a little like Simon’s voice, calm, gentle, and infinitely reassuring.

She wondered what he’d have thought of this situation, how he’d have reacted when infected with the virus. If there’d been moments in their relationship where she’d wished he was more assertive; there were others where she was relieved that he wasn’t as driven as some men she’d met in her travels. Would he have become like the hunters - aggressively dominant? Or even more dogged and insistent, like Carson Beckett?

As she crossed the busy main room, where women were setting down their packs and setting up their bedrolls, Elizabeth felt a sudden pang of homesickness.

Most of the time, she kept herself from thinking about Simon, what he was doing, how he was going. It had always been the case in their relationship; her work took her all over the world for several months at a time. Of course, even then, he’d never been more than a phone call away.

In a moment of whimsy, Elizabeth wondered if phone calls between the Milky Way and Pegasus galaxies would ever be _de rigeur_. Of course, first they had to find a way to get between the two galaxies on a regular basis.

First they had to find a way to neutralise the Wraith.

_First we have to get through tonight._

Teyla was standing in a circle with several other women. A quick glance at the faces of the various women made Elizabeth realise that almost all were military. There weren’t more than a dozen of them, looking over each other’s shoulders at various screenboards and pointing out points where they might have to keep a watch out.

“…not more than a couple of hours,” someone was saying.

“At most. And I wouldn’t have less than ten of us to a shift.”

“We don’t need that many - just enough to give warning in case anything happens.”

“Do you really think they’ll attack us? I mean, come on, these are the guys.” The speaker had her back to Elizabeth as she approached the group, but the hopefulness in her voice was reflected more than a few faces she could see.

It was Teyla who closed off that hope. “I do not believe we can trust them not to,” the Athosian said gently. “This is not completely of their own will; they are driven by something more.” Her gaze met Elizabeth’s. “Dr. Weir?”

“We’re locked in,” she said, addressing the whole group. “Although I’m in agreement with Teyla. We should be on guard, just in case.”

“Dr. Weir, this isn’t the Wraith or the Gennii - these are our own people!”

She looked at the woman - in her mid-twenties and wearing the stripes of a corporal. “They are our own people, yes. But Teyla is right. This virus that’s infected them is changing their behaviour patterns.”

“It’s not like we want to kill them,” said another woman bluntly.

“And their intent is not to kill us, either,” Teyla added. “They will seek to overpower us - individually or collectively.”

The woman who’d been hopeful looked dismayed. “You’re talking about some one hundred fifty men in Atlantis! We can’t hold them _all_ off!”

“Not at once, no,” another woman said. “But they’re not gonna come at us all at once.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Actually,” said the cool voice of one of the older personnel who’d come over, “we can.” Amanda Birrell was the base medical pathologist, a tough, wiry woman who took an almost gleeful enjoyment in her work. “The guys are basically pumped full of testosterone. They’re hot, ready, and raring to go. They’re also very aggressive, territorial, and likely to be set off by small things. Their instincts will be screaming at them to fight each other as much as hunt us down - and they’re much more likely to fight each other.”

It brought up a new concern in Elizabeth’s mind. “Might they try to damage the city?”

Dr. Birrell shrugged. “It’s possible. Unlikely, though. Given their behaviour up until now, they’re more likely to try to assert dominance over one another than to try to smash things up.”

“But can we be sure?”

“Nothing’s _sure_.”

“Well, death and taxes.”

“Har-har.”

Teyla spoke specifically to Dr. Birrell. “When we were on Tabaasa, the men were not fighting with each other.”

“Maybe they weren’t. But you were the only virgin on the planet, Teyla. And they’re more used to the hormone overload than the men on Atlantis.” She shrugged. “Of course, that’s all speculation.”

“I think we can leave the speculation for after we’ve settled in here,” said Elizabeth, quelling the discussion before it could get started. “However, I think a basic watch for all hours of the night is a very good idea. At the least it will make people feel safer.”

“With all due respect, ma’am, there’s not much point in feeling safer if we’re _not_ any safer.”

“Maybe not,” Elizabeth said. “But if it means that most of these people aren’t on the edge all night, then that’s one thing less to worry about.” She looked around the circle with a smile. “In the meantime, ladies, I’ll leave the organisation of security up to you. Teyla, would you let me know how things are set out when you’re finished.”

It wasn’t quite leaving Teyla in charge, although it was giving her a certain amount of authority among the group. The Athosian might need it, she might not.

She left the women discussing how many sentries they’d need, and went to see how the rest of the group was settling in.

It was going to be a long night.

\--

McKay had called it testosterone poisoning.

Aiden had objected, of course, although Zelenka insisted he was just oversensitive about any slurs on the military. That nearly started an argument over degrees of teasing and what counted as slurs - at least until Major Sheppard and McKay stepped in.

A few hours after the last group returned from hunting, Aiden wasn’t so sure the terminology was wrong.

The returned men prowled around the complex, occasionally starting fights with each other. Words and blows were exchanged, and although someone usually stepped in before things got too heated, it wasn’t always the case.

So when Mark Ellison ended up in the infirmary with a broken collarbone, Sheppard decided that enough was enough and called every man in Atlantis into the mess hall.

Aiden could feel the edginess in the crowd, the way the various groups of men eyed each other. A few days ago, there would have been chatter, jokes, and good-natured chaffing between them. Now, there were the tense, wary gazes of men who were waiting for their companion to strike the first blow.

To say it was worrying was like suggesting that the Wraith were a minor inconvenience.

“The city is going into lockdown,” Sheppard announced. “You have thirty minutes to head to your quarters before a complete lockdown is initiated on the city. All transit doors and transporters will be shut down, and if you’re not in your quarters when I enter my codes, you’re going to be stuck where you are until dawn.”

“Isn’t that a bit overboard, sir?” Bates challenged, narrow-eyed.

“I don’t know,” Sheppard said with careful deliberation. “I’d say that ‘a bit overboard’ is punching Ellison because he didn’t stand aside fast enough.”

“With all due respect, sir...”

“Sergeant, don’t argue the point. In the absence of Dr. Weir--”

“Her and all the women!”

Mentioning the women produced a shifting in the sea of men collected together in the room. Aiden glanced over the personnel, seeing more than a few slightly sullen expressions among them.

“In the absence of Dr. Weir, I’m in command of the base,” Sheppard continued, ignoring the interjection. “And at the behest of Dr. Beckett, I’m giving you time to get to your quarters before locking down the city.”

“The civilians are dictating security?”

John regarded the man with an implacable glare. “_I’m_ giving the orders, Markham. And your orders are to get to your quarters in the next half-hour, or you’ll be stuck wherever you are for the duration of the night.”

Next to Aiden, Wes Haller leaned over. “Because he didn’t _stand aside fast enough_?”

“That’s what the doc said,” said Aiden in the same undertones. He’d been there when Beckett confronted the Major about the situation in the city. The ensuing outburst had been so thickly accented, it was barely comprehensible.

“Shit,” Haller muttered. “I hope Bec’s okay.” His wife was one of the technical specialists on the expedition, a trim redhead with a penchant for console games.

Up the front, the Major was looking around the room. “Lockdown in thirty minutes. No exceptions. Dismissed.”

“And there goes the card game for the evening,” Haller quipped as he eased himself off the table they’d been sitting on. He glanced at Aiden as the others began dispersing around them. “You really don’t know where they’ve gone?”

Aiden had his suspicions, but he wasn’t about to tell. The only man who knew for sure was Major Sheppard - or possibly McKay - but neither of them would be saying anything. “They’ll be fine,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“It’s not your wife that’s decided to hide out from you.” The other Lieutenant was obviously disgruntled by the vanishing act pulled by the women, although not half as angry as some of the other men had been when they discovered Atlantis empty but for the male scientists.

“Wes, if I had a wife in Atlantis, I’d be glad she was out of the way. After the way the guys on Tabaasa reacted to Teyla - they’re better off where we aren’t.” Aiden was very relieved that Dr. Weir had decided to take the women somewhere else. He’d been shocked at the reaction to Teyla on Tabaasa, and as the evening wore on, the possibility that something similar might happen in Atlantis was beginning to loom very large in his eyes.

But these weren’t just strangers from another planet, they were _colleagues_, people Aiden had worked with - and would have to work with in future. The women probably felt the same way about it; he’d certainly caught enough glances from them while helping them prepare for their departure.

“And you really don’t know where they are?”

“What do you want? Blood?” He was joking. Mostly.

Aiden had a feeling it might come to blood spilled if any of the guys found out exactly where the women were.

Wes grimaced and held up his hands. “Okay, I won’t ask any more.” He glanced out over the room where the last few men were filing out, many of them grumbling at the curfew. “Guess we should be getting back to our quarters for the night.” He turned to leave, but paused as Major Sheppard approached, gesturing him back. “Sir?”

“Lieutenants.” He glanced from Aiden to Wes. “Got a few hours energy in you?”

“Sir?”

“I need a few men to patrol the city.” Sheppard’s grim words did nothing for Aiden’s state of mind.

Wes looked confused. “Sir, if the city’s in lockdown, why would we need patrols?”

“Call it instinct.”

“How do you know you can trust us?” That was the more pressing question for Aiden.

He got a dry look for that. “If I can’t trust my team, who can I trust? Besides, McKay has a theory about this.”

“McKay always has theories about this stuff,” Aiden noted.

“But this theory makes sense.” Sheppard gestured them out of the mess hall. “He’s in his lab - I think both he and Beckett are going to spend the night in their offices.”

“And we’re going to spend all night patrolling the city?” Not exactly how Aiden had planned the evening.

“Not _all_ night,” was the Major’s blithe reply. “We’ll do it in shifts.”

Wes rolled his eyes behind the commander’s back, and Aiden shook his head, but followed Sheppard.

Most of the men went peacefully although with black looks. Those who resisted were either manhandled off to their quarters, or stunned. Thirty minutes later, the only men not locked in their quarters were some twenty military personnel, thirty scientific personnel who’d opted to work all night, Drs. McKay and Beckett, and Major Sheppard.

They were assigned shifts in pairs, and sent out to walk a sector of the city for two hours, then rest for most of the rest of the time.

Aiden drew the second shift - from midnight until 0200. It felt like he’d just drowsed off amidst the other guys in the ready room when someone was shaking him awake and it was time to do his shift.

Beckett was working over culture slides in the infirmary when Aiden looked in and received a brief glare for his troubles.

“Just obeying orders,” he defended.

“As long as you’re not going to tell me I should be doing something else.”

His assumption of command during the storm wasn’t something that Beckett was going to forgive in a hurry. Privately, Aiden just wished Beckett would let it go. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. “Major Sheppard asked me to check in on all the scientists working in the labs.” He paused and eyed the stuff the other man had been poking at a minute earlier. “What are you doing, anyway?”

Beckett had just gone back to his machine. He now glanced up, “I doubt you’ll understand the technical explanation, but I’m trying to determine if the pollen you brought back with you is the actual cause of the behaviour we’re seeing around here.”

“And this is...?”

“An electron microscope. I’m taking a look at the molecular structure of the pollen you brought back. Actually, it’s quite interesting. It seems that this pollen is very similar in structure to the gonadotropin-releasing hormone emitted by the hypothalamus...and you don’t really want to listen to this, do you?”

Aiden didn’t. It wasn’t making much sense to him at all, and he didn’t particularly care to be drawn into a scientific discussion.

“I skipped the sciences for a reason, you know.”

Beckett rolled his eyes and went back to his work. “Go on with your checking in, then. Don’t let me stop you.”

Everything was quiet around the inhabited portions of the base, the scientists were all working in twos or threes, and they seemed to be getting on fine.

“Nothing,” Wes reported when he met up with Aiden at on of the intersections. “You’d never think we were...you know...”

“Suffering from testosterone poisoning?” So maybe he was a little touchy after that slur. As much as McKay complained about the military being insensitive to scientists, the street ran both ways - and neither McKay nor Zelenka were afraid to point out the shortcomings of Aiden - or any other military person on the base.

Wes choked. “Who said that?”

“McKay.”

“Figures.”

They continued through the darkened halls of the city, back to McKay’s lab where an argument was in process.

“And this is going to help the women exactly _how_?”

The Major was talking in his ‘I’m angry but being incredibly patient’ tone of voice. “It’ll provide a secondary ring of defence--”

“As well as let every man in the city know where the women are!” McKay stumped his way around Sheppard with a scowl.

“You said it yourself, McKay - we’re not a danger to them like the others--”

“I said nothing of the sort! I said that the men who have strong emotional ties with specific women on the base are the least likely to go caveman. That doesn’t mean they won’t if they’re given the opportunity.”

Okay. Not the kind of argument into which Aiden wanted to step. Although it did explain some things. “Uh, sir?”

“Lieutenants,” Major Sheppard answered. “Patrol report?”

“All quiet, sir.”

“Section?”

“B2, sir, not a peep,” Wes replied, saluting. He paused. “Major?”

“Lieutenant?”

“Is what Dr. McKay said, true? About the men with strong emotional ties?”

McKay and the Major exchanged looks. “It’s a theory,” Sheppard said.

“Fairly accurate so far,” McKay noted, before he shot a meaningful glare at the other man. “Although that’s no reason to go testing it.”

“Might I remind you that I am the commander--”

“Military commander, Sheppard.”

“--in the absence of Dr. Weir--”

Wes glanced at Aiden. He shrugged. He’d become accustomed to the occasional arguments between superior officer and scientist while on missions. He’d even persuaded Teyla to look at it as a kind of game; how long could they go without an argument, who would start it, and whether they’d resolve it, or just silently sulk until conversation was necessary.

“Oh, please,” McKay was saying, “Your excuses are getting more spurious by the minute, Sheppard. If you want to run and check on them, then don’t expect a happy welcome. I’m pretty sure they took most of the Wraith stunners with them when they went, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they shoot you on sight. I know I would.”

“Major Sheppard!” The earpiece crackled into life, and the Major touched it with one finger. “Major Sheppard!”

“Go ahead.”

“Sergeant Bryan Sampson here, scouting sector D1,” Sampson spoke gravely. “Someone’s been through this sector, sir.”

Aiden felt his stomach twist slightly, and saw Wes’ fingers clench a little more tightly around his P-90. While he didn’t know for sure where the women had gone, the D-wing was one of the least-used wings of the city - a perfect area for the women to use as a hiding place.

A tic in the Major’s jaw jumped, and the cords of his throat tightened. “What do you mean, ‘been through’ the sector, Lance-Corporal?”

“I mean someone’s been jimmying the doors through this section. Looks like they were on a mission, sir.”

_Shit._

Five minutes later, Sheppard, Aiden, and Wes were all looking at a door that had been pried open by a very determined someone or someones.

“We have a problem,” the Major said. “McKay?”

“What?”

“D-wing’s been breached. Go around to the ready room and get the remaining men.”

“You can’t possibly be thinking of--”

“Going up against them?” Sheppard asked. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking of. If you have a better option than leaving the women to fight them off--“”

“Well, I can think of many better scenarios than the women having to fight _you_ off as well as the men you’re going after. Major, what I suggested to you about emotional attachments toning down the effects of the testosterone was a _theory_ on my part with absolutely no proof.”

Sheppard lifted an eyebrow. “You’re admitting you’re not absolutely certain of something?”

“Of course I’m admitting I’m not absolutely certain of something! When have I ever implied that I know everything?”

There was a moment of silence.

“I’m guessing that’s not a trick question,” Sheppard replied with heavy irony.

“Oh, very funny,” McKay snapped.

“It’s a theory. We’re going to put it to the test now.”

“Great,” said McKay. “That’s just...wonderful. So you still want me to send the other men in?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Fine.”

Sheppard tapped the earpiece, switching it off transmission. “Anyone else got issues with us following after?”

Sergeant Sampson was a hefty man in his mid-thirties, and not one to beat about the bush. “My girlfriend’s out there.”

“What the Sergeant said,” the other man said.

Aiden shrugged as Sheppard turned his gaze towards him, and Wes was practically champing at the bit.

“Right then, I’ll take point, Haller, Sampson and Dwyers follow, Ford, you’re rearguard. Keep your eyes and ears open, no rushing in. And try not to beat the shit out of them when we find them, okay?”

“Truthfully sir, I’m more worried about Kath beating the shit out of me for not being there if the guys attack them,” Sampson said with dry humour. “She’s a scary woman when she’s got her dander up.”

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” said Sheppard grimly.

They moved through the corridors of D-wing with as much silence as they could without compromising speed. Half-opened doors hung off their tracks, pried or wrenched open by the man or men who’d been through here before, and each successive door twisted Aiden’s stomach just a little more.

And then they heard the fighting and the matter of ‘no rushing in’ became moot.


	3. Chapter 3

John cursed as his companions outpaced him. Any kind of sense - common or otherwise - had probably fled the minute they first heard the woman’s shriek. Their womenfolk were in trouble and every hormonal urge in the body bellowed that they should run to the rescue.

Goddamn chivalry.

Yeah, he was feeling a lot more aggressive than was usual for him. But he could still think around the urge to wade in and crack a few heads together. Mostly.

He figured the girls would shoot anything that had a Y-chromosome. Or that looked like it did. Which was reason number one not to go running in there without checking out the situation first.

Of course, it was kind of hard to remember that as he got closer and heard the peculiar compression-wave sound that indicated someone had just used a stunner. There were thumps and shouts, cries for assistance, and the sound of fists hitting flesh.

And then the sound he least wanted to hear.

Gunfire.

Someone shrieked. Rage or horror? John didn’t know.

He did know that his senses propelled him into the room. One glance gave him an immediate overview of the situation. Two steps brought him to the man who stood with the gun still pointed at the woman who lay on the ground, bleeding from her thigh.

_Not arterial_, his mind noted absently. His body was too busy swinging the butt of his P-90 into the other man’s chin. A solid _thunk_ indicated he’d hit his mark, and the man went down as John grabbed for his gun wrist. He didn’t really care for a shot in the belly, thank you very much, and right now, he couldn’t count on anyone’s sense but his own.

Around him, he could hear the noise of someone using a stunner on another man. He hoped it wasn’t one of the guys he’d arrived with. Someone was yelling. At him? At someone else?

Anger briefly flared in him. This was so incredibly _stupid_. And the man he’d downed was moving. He didn’t want that. Once the man was down, he should have the sense to_ stay_ down. His instincts lifted his fist for a second blow, his emotion needing an outlet.

“Major!” A hand gripped his wrist, halting his blow and he turned on the person who’d intervened.

“What?”

Teyla regarded him warily. “I believe he is down, Major,” she said with crisp briskness. “You do not need to continue.” Behind her, one of the women trained a stunner on the downed man, while others were coming in to help the injured woman. She glanced around to ascertain what was happening, and John caught himself before he leaned in towards her.

One of the young women met her gaze and nodded, then slipped back to the next door. Teyla turned back to him. “I did not think that you were going to intrude on this part of the city.”

He glanced around the open area, noting the number of men down and the number of women moving briskly about. “Yeah, well, we heard that some of the guys were trying to get out here and figured you could do with some help.”

Given that this woman could kick his ass any day of the week, it wasn’t all that likely that she was going to accept that as an answer.

Luckily for him, she wasn’t given a choice.

Across the room, voices rose in conjugal disagreement.

“We came to protect you,” Lieutenant Haller was saying to the petite redhead who was probably his wife.

It seemed that she, like more than a few other women, didn’t seem to feel that they’d needed rescuing in the first place. “Wes, you know me - I need saving like I need a hole in the head!”

“Well, if you’d gotten hurt in the middle of that--”

“Says the man who’s limping!”

His face creased in a flash of irritation. “You could at least show some appreciation!”

“For what? Playing Luke Skywalker and coming in to rescue the helpless lady who can take care of herself?”

John reflected that there was only so much concentrated aggravation a man could take. It seemed that the Lieutenant had just about reached his limit.

“Dammit, Bec,” he roared, “if you’d been hurt because I wasn’t there, I’d have walloped your ass!”

Not exactly the most tender of declarations. Then again, neither was her response:

“And you’d pee sitting down for the rest of your life!”

Someone chortled, suddenly drawing the pair’s attention to their audience. Husband and wife flushed bright scarlet, and while she wouldn’t accept his arm around her shoulder, she didn’t lash out at him as he followed her, still muttering quietly at each other. Nothing like shared humiliation to draw people together.

“Okay,” John said dryly. “Now that we’ve established why we’re here, how about having someone see to...” He paused. While the drama had been going on in the background, a couple of women had already come out to do some basic field medicine on the shot woman. “Alright then,” he tried again, “how about setting out a plan of defence?”

“We had a plan of defence,” said Teyla as she walked over and picked up the weapon the man had dropped. Around them, the other dozen or so women were doing the same, dividing the weapons between them. Several were showing others how to use the weapons they were being handed. It didn’t inspire John’s confidence. “By and large, it worked. We would have managed without your assistance, Major.”

“So much for male protectiveness,” he muttered beneath his breath. “Where’s Elizabeth?”

“I’m here,” Elizabeth said, emerging from a nearby door and pushing her hair out of her eyes. She glanced at Teyla first, and the younger woman nodded. “Weren’t you supposed to stay--?”

“In the main city,” he finished for her. “Yes. We got word that some of the guys made their way through here...”

The cry drifted down from above - they’d posted a sentry? “Incoming!”

His senses went to full alert in an instant, and he pushed Elizabeth back, standing between her and whoever was arriving. The defence was automatic - as was the P-90 he raised to deal with the intruders.

“Major Sheppard?” The first man entered incautiously and was walloped by a stunner. The women were definitely playing hard-to-get.

“Okay,” came a familiar voice from beyond the door. “That’s not encouraging.”

“McKay?” John demanded, feeling more than a little irked by the appearance - or non-appearance, as yet - of the scientist.

“No, it’s the Wizard of Oz, actually,” McKay retorted. “Are they going to shoot me when I walk in? I brought reinforcements.”

John glanced back at Elizabeth who was smiling. “What kind of reinforcements did you bring, Rodney?”

“Safe ones. Well, reasonably safe given that my theory on the behavioural patterns differing according to emotional ties and background seems to be holding out.”

“Ma’am?” Came another voice through the door. “Do you mind letting us in without shooting us? McKay’s been going on since we started out through the city. I’m Captain Robert Saunders, United States marines; my wife is Christina, and I don’t particularly like being shot at.”

“I think it’s safe to say you’re in the wrong job for that, Captain,” McKay was heard to say.

“They’re clear,” said John, easing his finger off the trigger.

“Says you,” one of the women retorted, tossing back black curls over her fatigues. “Someone get Chris out here.”

“Now wait a minute,” John began at the same time as McKay exclaimed, “Oh, for goodness sake!”

Elizabeth cut him off with a wave of her hand and looked around the room, “I believe we can be reasonably sure that these gentlemen aren’t going to attack us.”

“Ma’am,” the black curly-haired woman interrupted, “With all due respect, the difference between being reasonably sure and absolutely certain is how Abby got shot in the leg. I know I’d like a little more verification.”

“A little more verification?” John was _this close_ to calling up the woman for insubordination.

Another woman had arrived, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Rob?”

“Hey, hon, how are you?”

“I’ve been better,” Christina Saunders said, blinking. “Not that I don’t appreciate the past-midnight visit, but should you _be_ here?”

“Well, that seems to be the matter up for debate. Major Sheppard?”

“We seem to have a slight impasse happening on this side of the door,” John said “Ladies--”

“Don’t ‘ladies’ us, Major,” said the curly-haired woman, scowling. “How do we know this isn’t a Trojan horse scenario?”

“I think I’d be a lot more subtle about a Trojan horse scenario,” John retorted. “Every one of those men that Saunders brought with him has a girlfriend or wife in your ranks. They’ll vouch for them.”

“Well, I’ll vouch for Rob,” Christina said with a yawn. “Especially if it means I can go back to bed!”

One by one the new arrivals were vouched for - somewhat sleepily - by the women in their lives, and the gallery area grew crowded. McKay looked around with some satisfaction. “I was right. But then, I’m always right.”

The satisfaction irked. “Remind me who was it who didn’t want his theory tested?”

Rodney waved it away. “A momentary uncertainty, that was all. Now, what’s the plan for the night? And, incidentally, since I’m not a combatant, I don’t suppose you have somewhere that I can hole up for the evening?”

John glared all the harder at him, particularly because Elizabeth was attempting to hide a smile. “Why did you bother coming along at all?”

“Well, I was concerned, you know.” The man had the audacity to look innocent. And to haul his laptop out of his backpack. “And I brought work.”

John was feeling the urge to smack the scientist a little too strongly for his liking, so he turned away and went back through the gallery area, looking over people. The women gave him wary looks as he passed them and went to talk with Ford, who was standing alone by the door, rather like a lookout.

“You know, the women already have someone on watch,” he noted.

“Well, now they have someone else,” said Ford. After a moment, the young man grimaced. “Sorry, sir. It’s just...they don’t trust me much.”

John looked around. “You’re not the only one.”

Logic told him it was because he wasn’t designated ‘safe’ by the women. All the other men had lovers from the women in Atlantis; otherwise most of the operational military personnel were male, and tended to work in all-male teams. He and Ford worked closely with both Elizabeth and Teyla, and McKay had hypothesised that the near-constant contact with the two women had brought down the ‘aggression factor’ - but it wouldn’t make them ‘safe’ in the same way that the other men were.

John was just relieved that he wasn’t a danger to the people he was supposed to protect, male or female.

He glanced at Ford, checking for signs of tiredness. “If you need a break, take one. McKay’s going to be holed up somewhere around here - you can probably kick him out if you get too tired.”

“You, too, sir.”

He didn’t think that was too likely; he’d sneaked stimulants from Beckett’s office while the other man was dealing with Ellison. He’d figured that he wasn’t likely to get much sleep tonight, between walking patrols of the city.

He certainly wasn’t going to get much sleep around here - not while the women were arguing defences.

Elizabeth and the other non-combatants had gone back into the main room where the women were gathered - the inner sanctum from which the men were denied entry. They would stay out here and work with the dozen or so women willing to hold these galleries through the night. Or they might be sent further out to patrol the corridors leading towards this wing. Judging by the words being exchanged, that matter was being argued among the largest group now.

Time to put in his two cents worth.

He’d just started towards them when Teyla clattered down the stairs that led from a tower position. She paused to speak with a woman at the bottom of the stairs, then started towards the main group of arguing men and women with her easy, feline grace.

John watched the shift of leg and thigh, hip and abdomen, noting the curve of throat and shoulder, breast and waist. Something unfurled within his psyche, suddenly hyperaware of her presence. It was with slight shock that he realised he wasn’t the only man watching her move. Every male eye was upon her as she crossed the room, and he could feel the atavistic prickle of the hairs at his nape.

He reined in his thoughts sharply and turned to intercept her. The tension in the room rose by notches as he caught her arm and hauled her away by pure force.

Dark eyes met his, angry at his manhandling. “Major?”

There was little time to explain. If they’d been a pack of wolves, then at this moment, the other men would be growling, ready to spring. “Teyla, get into the other room.”

She frowned. “Major, I am needed--”

John stopped himself just short of shoving her against the wall. At this moment, the dominant sexual implications of such a move both terrified and excited him. His instincts were shouting that this was a woman who’d never yet been possessed by a man. He didn’t know how he knew, he just _knew._ He could feel it in his bones - in his balls. Whatever had taken hold of him was whispering serpentine in his ear; he could be the first if he let himself go, if he only let his control ease a little.

He wasn’t about to let it drop even the tiniest fraction.

But the effort of reining himself in was taking its toll. He could feel himself slipping by degrees - and her refusal to see the danger she was in wasn’t making things any easier on him or the other men. “Teyla, you need to get into the other room, _right now_!”

A moment later, Rodney was there, interposing himself between them and pushing Teyla towards the door. “Teyla, go inside!”

“But--”

“Remember Tabaasa?” Rodney snapped. “Just go!”

Teyla glanced around the room, more than a little angry. It was obviously she still didn’t fully understanding her danger, and John made a move that he aborted before he’d gotten any further than the shift of weight from one foot to the other. Rodney followed the movement, the heavyset form shielding Teyla from him, consciously or unconsciously.

The movement drew her gaze back to John. His lips formed her name in what was both a plea and a curse, and her eyes widened fractionally. She turned on her heel and went. Behind her, the doors hissed shut, and he felt the tension in him relax - just a little.

Still, he stared at the door through which she’d gone for a few seconds longer, before he met McKay’s gaze.

“You know, this probably isn’t the time to mention it, but I did say that it was just a theory,” the scientist reminded him, more than a little shaken in his triumph.

John’s vocal chords worked for a moment before any sound came out. “You did.” That was the only concession McKay was going to get from him.

Deliberately, he turned away from the door and headed over to the main group. He met the eyes that watched him, male and female, and they looked away after a moment, acknowledging his dominance.

He ignored what the submission implied, what he’d come perilously close to doing. He wasn’t going to think about that until later - if ever.

In the meantime, they had a defence plan to draw up.

\--

It went against her nature to do nothing.

Teyla sat in the shadows of the inner room and chafed at the inactivity.

The wing had two rooms behind the gallery area where the first defensive line gathered. The larger room next to the gallery area was the main room, and most of the women stayed there. The smaller room behind it was accessible only through the main room - and there were some thirty to forty women clustered in there with the supplies and weapons.

Most sat in groups, talking in hushed undertones. Some tried to sleep, but were inevitably woken when the attacks came. And the women willing to handle and use a stunner against their male colleagues cycled in and out of the room, nursing bruises and muttering uncomplimentary things about men.

Teyla envied them.

She wasn’t allowed out in the larger room. Dr. Weir had confined her to the smaller room - along with all the other women ‘at risk’.

“It’s like a damned Muslim house or something,” one of the younger women groaned when she discovered she was ‘confined to quarters’. “You know, when they talk about sexual choice, doesn’t that include the right to choose _not_ to have sex?”

Another woman - Dr. Reznick - had made an annoyed sound as she dumped her bedroll in one corner. “You can talk,” she sneered. “At least the damned virus has you correctly pegged!”

It was rare among Teyla’s people to have women who preferred other women as lovers - or men who preferred men, although the practise was not unknown. And even among those women whose preferences lay with their own gender, it was not unusual for them to take a male lover in order to bear a child.

Apparently this ‘virus’ or whatever it was, only classified _tinael_ by intercourse with a member of the opposite sex.

It made sense within the context of Dr. McKay’s conclusions.

Of course, Teyla had more wisdom than to voice such an opinion before the others - none of whom were happy to be confined.

But she still resented the inactivity.

During the third attack - or was it the fourth? - Teyla rose and went to the door to see if she could offer her services doing something - anything!

She got four steps into the room before Dr. Beckett caught her with a hand that gripped a little too tight at the shoulder. “For God’s sake, Teyla, have you no sense of self-preservation?”

The distraction of the usually gentle doctor was enough to convince her to go back to the room. That didn’t mean she liked it. And as the night wore on, the restlessness grew worse. Cards, books, and games on someone’s laptop didn’t help the itchy need to be doing _something_.

“It’s the testosterone,” said a black-haired young woman apologetically as she began scrunching her hands into her bedroll. “It gives you lots of energy, but we don’t have an outlet for it. Unless we fight each other, of course, which we don’t really want.”

“I would feel less uneasy if I could only do something,” Teyla confessed. The other woman had introduced herself as Elin.

“Yeah, well,” Elin shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind going out and walloping someone right now. But I don’t particularly care to be raped either, so I think I’ll manage. My gyno said I have high testosterone anyway, so the aggro isn’t unusual for me.”

She stiffened, and turned her head as the shouts and yelps of another attack sounded from outside.

“How many does that make?” Dr. Reznick asked abruptly.

“Six,” Elin said without hesitation, then paused. “Or seven. I think I might have dreamed one of the attacks during that snooze I had several hours ago.”

“It is seven,” Teyla confirmed. “How long can we hold out here?” With only seventy women, and nearly twice that in men, the ratio of defender to attacker was very small

“I think they’re hoping things ease off at dawn,” said Elin. “Which seems a little short-sighted; I mean, just because the moon’s set doesn’t mean that it’s not still full. Technically, this could go on for days.”

“But it only got really bad tonight,” someone said. “Before that, it was a bit edgy, sure, but they weren’t after us this bad.”

“Well, here’s hoping,” Elin said, and continued scrunching her hands in the bedroll.

Teyla went to the door.

“I really wouldn’t advise that,” Dr. Reznick said.

Teyla glanced back but pushed open the doors a little so she could peer out into the main chamber. There appeared to be no men in the outer room, and she opened the doors further - enough to spot Dr. Weir taking a stunner from a woman who looked more than a little weary.

“Dr. Weir!”

“Teyla.” Dr. Weir crossed the room swiftly. “Is everything okay in there?”

“We are fine,” she reassured the other woman. “But restless. Is there nothing we can do?”

“Teyla, if there was something you could do--”

Another woman interrupted, “I’m sorry, Dr. Weir, we’re just on our way out to relieve the current shift.”

“I’ll be there in a moment, Val,” she reassured the last of the women leaving the room before turning back. “We’re short on combatants - but there isn’t anything that you can do about that--”

Teyla wasn’t so sure. “One of the women is still up on the lookout?”

“Yes.”

“I can take her place,” she said with sudden inspiration. “That would give you one more fighter.”

“Teyla, you know that’s not safe.”

“Dr. Weir, you need every woman capable of fighting out there,” she said. Beyond the expedition leader, the room was filled with exhausted and wounded women, trying to gain a little sleep. “There, I would be out of the way and still able to help. Please.”

She hoped that her plea would not fall on deaf ears. It was obvious that their situation was close to dire, and any help would be better than none. Still, there was no mistaking the hesitation in the other woman’s eyes, even in the pre-dawn shadows.

“Okay,” Dr. Weir conceded at last. “But only because you’re more than capable of looking after yourself.”

The pent-up tension eased as soon as she had a goal - something to _do_. But Dr. Weir gripped her shoulder hard, with more strength than Teyla had imagined the other woman to have “You’ll have to get up there without going through the gallery. And take your earpiece. If you get into any trouble at all, you let me or Dr. Heitmeyer know _immediately_.”

Teyla nodded at the entreaty, although inside she was exultant as she went back to the inner room to get her jacket and a pair of thick, rough-palmed gloves.

Fifteen minutes and one cold, pre-dawn climb later, Teyla eased herself over the railing and relieved the woman who’d been standing sentry duty for the last couple of hours. If the woman wore her doubts on her face, she pointed out what Teyla would have to watch for and went down to the fight swiftly enough.

Here, on this ledge, the morning air was brisk and chill. Teyla ignored the cooling of her extremities, just pleased to be out and doing something.

Below her, the sounds of battle wore down, and she heard the voices of men and women mingling below her, hoarse and weary with their labours. Speculation ensued as to whether the other men would attack again during the night.

From what Teyla had heard, those who had attacked and been unsuccessful were dragged aside and dumped in various rooms, with assorted inventive restraints by which they were prohibited from attacking again. In the inner room, they had heard a number of jokes being told regarding the manner of restraints, and several of the other women had occasionally come in to relate them.

“_Teyla?_” Her earpiece buzzed softly.

“I am here, Dr. Weir.”

“_Good. Right now, we’re not sure if there’ll be another attack. Major Sheppard seems to think they’ll try at least once more before dawn, but there isn’t much time._”

Teyla turned to look out at the midnight sky over the obsidian sea. Even now, there were signs that the night was ending and the dawn was coming. And even the dawn might not bring relief. They had no way of knowing. “We can hope.”

“_Yes,_” Dr. Weir agreed. “_We can._” There was a moment where it sounded like she was speaking with someone else - the cadences of the speech seemed to indicate it was Dr. McKay relating something. “_Don’t forget..._”

“I will let you know if there are any troubles,” she reassured her.

Sentry watch was a lonely duty. For the next hour, Teyla kept watch, staring towards the city, watching for any signs that another party of men were making their way towards this wing. Once one group had come through, it was easy enough for the others to make their way; and either the word had spread, or the various men had worked out where the women must be.

Below, the conversations held were terse and functional, and she listened to the occasional exchange between men and women; and the more usual conversations among the men or among the women.

It was nearly dawn when she heard the sound of bootsteps climbing up to her position, and turned, wary of whoever might show themselves over the railing.

Lieutenant Ford was unarmed, and held his hands out from his body. “Don’t shoot,” he said lightly.

“You should not be up here,” she told him, relaxing a little. Perhaps it was overconfidence, but she was sure of her ability to defend against him should he attack. And there was an ease about Aiden that reassured her. If he was watchful of her, then that was no more than she was accustomed to about the last few days; and while his physical prowess was considerable, he was no match for her in a hand-to-hand fight.

“I figured you’d kick my butt if I tried anything,” he said, smiling as he came to stand on the catwalk a few yards away from her. “Just do it gently, okay?”

Teyla smiled a little. The Lieutenant was hardly the most intimidating of men on the base; and she trusted him. It was enough for her not to call for help.

They made desultory conversation, easily enough, without any stiffness.

Overhead, the sky drifted to a pearly grey and the outlines of the city were becoming clearer by the moment as the moon sunk towards the sea. Would the men in the city attack again, or had they had enough for the night?

Teyla wondered. She also found herself wondering about the ‘instincts’ the other men had shown around her through the night, and was a little curious.

“What is it like?” She asked at length. “The awareness of...of _tinael_?” At the look that came over his face, she added, “If you do not feel that you should speak of it...”

Aiden shook his head. “It’s...it’s just...weird. Like an extra sense, I suppose. A bit like an itch that you want to scratch but know you shouldn’t.” He must have seen her confusion, because he tried to qualify it. “It’s uncomfortable, though...” He paused and grabbed for the railing.

She took an automatic step forward, and stopped. It was difficult to see in the dim light, but his knuckles paled as he tightened his grip around the metal. “Lieutenant?”

“Sorry,” he apologised, but didn’t let go of the railing. “It comes and goes a bit. Sort of in waves.”

Teyla took another step away, but continued to watch him with caution. Then, a wisp of mischief manifested. “Would you rather I knocked you out now or wait until you attack me?”

He laughed, then, half-choking on his amusement. “You know, that’s pretty much what’s keeping me in line,” he admitted. “You’d beat me up now, then the Major would have at me for being up here, and the scientists would find _something_ to laugh at...” Slowly, finger-by-finger, he took his hands off the railing. A faint smile touched his face, “Hey, as prophylactics go, it’s a pretty effective one.”

She saw the look that came over his face then, slightly abashed, as though he’d said something he shouldn’t have. She didn’t understand quite what a ‘prophylactic’ was, but she had her suspicions, and was about to ask, when she saw his expression change.

Even as she spun out of the way, she felt the edge of the stun blast take her in the side, throwing her off-balance. Aiden was not so lucky; she heard his grunt of pain as she ran towards the attacker, tapping her earpiece on.

“Attack on the lookout post!”

“_What? Teyla_?”

Response to their inquiries was impossible; she was taking in the situation before her.

Her attacker moved out of the shadows, already charging the stunner for another shot. The light fell across the intent expression of Sergeant Bates, only a few yards away.

Teyla later realised she was very fortunate.

Wraith stunners were capable of a steady barrage of force when fully charged. The longer they went uncharged after heavy use, the longer they took to regain enough strength for the next shot.

This stunner had been out all day with the men as they hunted for food for the base, and it had not since been charged. It was the only reason she had enough time to dodge the next shot, even with her left side half-numbed from the first blast. In close quarters and fully capable, she could take him easily, but in distance, with a weapon, and her injury, he had the advantage.

Teyla was well aware of this as she ran towards him.

He swung the now-useless weapon at her, and she ran in to the point where she could use the momentum of his swing to wrench the stunner from his grip. Her left hand could not grip as tight as her right on the barrel of the stunner, but she used it as a pivot and the momentum was enough.

The stunner clattered on the floor a few yards away, and was forgotten as he struck out at her.

His knuckles stung her cheek, and she tried to slam her left hand up, knocking his arm out of the way. This close, she could see the dark hunger in his eyes as he looked at her, the curl of his lip as he brought his arm back down and struck her hard across the head.

Dizzy, Teyla spun and grabbed his arm to haul him around and out, but felt his arm curl around her waist, and lost her grip. A second later, his teeth sank into the join between neck and shoulder and she stiffened, half-arching back against him in protest and pain.

There was a moment when her senses were thrown into confusion. Her body responded to the sensuality of the contact between them, however brutal, and her fingers flexed around his wrist, caught in the act of clenching.

Sanity asserted itself a moment later, and her elbow slammed into his side - enough to loosen his grip around her waist. A moment later, she’d swept his feet out from beneath him and driven her fist into his groin. He yelped and rolled away. One hand grabbed onto a railing to haul himself up. “What’s the matter, Teyla?” The way his voice pronounced her name was almost obscene. “Nobody but Sheppard good enough for you?”

He got no further with his insinuations. Her fist took him in the jaw and knocked him unconscious.

Her body stung - especially her left side. Teyla ran an arm over her face as she sat back. Below, she could hear the sounds of another fight taking place in the pearly, greying dawn. She made to stand up, but all the pent-up energy of before seemed to have now deserted her and she could only just rock back on her heels.

“Having fun?”

Pure adrenaline got her up and spun her into a crouch. Even that much movement took its toll on her. If she was now required to fight, it would not be a long battle, but her opponent would not come out of it unscathed.

She almost relaxed when she realised Major Sheppard was bending over the Lieutenant, checking the young man’s pulse. Almost. “A little nervous, aren’t you?”

“And you do not feel I have good cause?” She nodded towards the Lieutenant. “How is he?”

“Out like a light,” he said. “But breathing.” He jerked his head towards Sergeant Bates. “Him?”

“Breathing.” Since that was all he seemed to be concerned with, she gave him only the most basic of descriptions.

He seemed surprised.

“I would not kill him, Major,” she stepped back as he passed her on his way to check the Sergeant, and watched as he pulled a length of rope from his jacket and tied the other man’s hands. “He is not an enemy.”

With Sergeant Bates restrained, the Major stood and nodded. “Maybe not,” he said. “And maybe you should be more wary about who you define as a friend and an enemy.”

It was disconcerting to see him conducting himself with such ease, especially when compared to his tension earlier this evening. Or maybe that was just a remnant of her unsettling encounter with Sergeant Bates.

She gathered her thoughts enough to ask, “Do you speak of the Sergeant? Or of yourself?”

A smile twitched across his lips and he opened his mouth to respond. Then he paused and reached a hand up to his ear. “Sheppard here.”

It seemed someone was sending on a private channel, and he glanced around. “All clear up here.” His gaze fell on Teyla. “Yes, she is. Well, I haven’t yet. All right. May I remind you who’s the--” His expression grew dark. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be down in a minute.” Pause. “In. A. Minute.” Another pause. “Fine.”

She could not help the faint amusement that touched her expression as he tapped the earpiece off. “Dr. McKay?”

“How did you guess?” He asked sourly as he glanced down at the gallery below then back to her. “You’ll be okay up here?”

“In truth, it is a relief to be doing something,” she said, moving past him to resume her position as lookout.

A light touch on her arm stopped her, and she whirled in automatic response, stepping back. His proximity was not intimidating, but there was too much uncertainty after the last few days for her to be completely comfortable in such close quarters. And at present, she was not at her full strength, and vulnerable.

He held up his hands. “I didn’t mean...” A peculiar expression touched his face as his eyes alighted on something. Most likely he had only just seen it in the early morning light. “You’ve got a...hickey.”

One finger lifted, and he slowly reached out towards her until his fingers rested on the join between neck and shoulder - the point at which Sergeant Bates had bitten her. She could not see where his fingers rested, but his expression was plain enough.

She shifted a little, abruptly aware of the speed of her pulse, risen after her brief scare with the Sergeant. In his eyes, anger flared briefly at her rejection of his touch. “It is nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” he said. There was a dangerous quiet to his voice as he regarded her.

“Then it is nothing about which you need concern yourself. As you see, I am fine.”

Fine, but for the pounding of blood in her ears as his thumb traced down to the hollow at the base of her throat. In just such a way had he touched her, all those months ago when they first met. It had been a gentle touch back then, not quite a caress for they had only just been acquainted.

Now, there was the weight of the last months between them, the familiarity of friendship and companionship, and the intimacy of their sparring in the gym, intense and gratifying as any sexual experience - although vastly different in nature.

Teyla did not like where this was going. She did not like what his expression was showing - and she remembered only too well both Dr. Beckett’s warning and Dr. Weir’s entreaty.

“Major, I do not wish--” Her attempt to protest was lost against his mouth.

As with Sergeant Bates, Teyla felt a moment of turmoil, lost in the exquisite sensations of desire. Respect and liking complicated her state of mind and body; there was a heat in the lean lines of chest and thigh that pressed against her that matched a hunger in her own. It would be easy to give in to that.

_No._

It might be easy to give in, but they would have to live with the choice afterwards.

No. Not like this. In the consciousness of choice, perhaps; but in the heat of the moment, to regret later?

He was friend and trusted team-mate; this was no behaviour she had come to expect from him. She was not immune to the attraction of him: reserve and focus, boyish charm and responsible leadership, but this was nothing more than lust.

She tried to retreat, but he followed, and she felt the wall at her back, solid and cool as he backed her into a corner.

Teyla pushed him away, “John--”

His hands caught her wrists, lean fingers pressing muscle to bone as his mouth came down punishingly hard on hers. She had no room to move and no strength to give her protest potency. He boxed her in, gave her no room to escape or evade, so she took action the only way he allowed her.

He cried out, spitting blood from his lip. A moment later, her head rang with the force of his blow, and she caught his wrist - although not before he gripped her jaw in his hand. “Don’t you _ever_ do that again, Teyla,” he hissed, and she stared into the gaze of a man hardly rational, dangerously aroused and felt tendrils of fear wind icy around her soul.

Once again, his mouth came down on her, fierce and without mercy, and the wall bit into her shoulder blades as he shoved her against the wall. Her wrists were held, he’d trapped her legs between his, and she had not regained her strength after that last stunner blast.

She was relaxing beneath his hands as much as she could, trying to deceive him into believing she was quiescent. If he lessened his grip, gave her even a little leeway, she could...

Major Sheppard jerked with a sharp inhalation.

Teyla saw the whites of his eyes as he stiffened in pained reaction, then slumped against her, abruptly supine.

Over his shoulder, she met the steady gaze of Dr. Weir, the stunner she’d used on the Major already recharged for the next shot.

Then the other woman swung around as footsteps rang on the stairs.

Dr. McKay burst into the lookout, heedless of any danger to himself, holding a stunner of his own and looking more than a little flustered. “Elizabeth! Are you--” The scientist took one glance at the scene and dropped his weapon, lifting his hands slowly.

“I’m fine, Rodney,” Dr. Weir said, her voice rich with amusement.

“Good. I can see that. Oh, and I see that Teyla’s fine, too. Good.” He paused. “Well, I’ll just go back downstairs, shall I?”

“You do that,” Elizabeth said.

He turned to go, hesitated, then turned back. “Elizabeth?”

“Yes, Rodney?”

“Remind me never to get you mad.”

Then, with a slightly rueful expression, he was gone.

\--

That attack in the freezing pre-dawn was the last one for the night.

The bleary-eyed defenders watched the sun rise, watched it move across the sky, and more than a few went back to their bedrolls and fell asleep.

Rodney found a packet of stimulants in Sheppard’s jacket pocket and appropriated a couple to boost his flagging energy. John wouldn’t be needing them after all.

He and Carson were two of the men who stood the last watch, propped up on either side of a doorway, mostly arguing with each other.

The return to the central city was neither triumphal, nor hesitant. Elizabeth, flanked by Rodney on one side and Captain Robert Saunders on the other, went back through the corridors to the control room, and took the city out of lockdown. She then proceeded to list the things that needed to be done by the personnel who’d gotten more than a few brief snatches of sleep, before she went to her quarters and slept until the midafternoon.

Atlantis was somewhat subdued that day.

A shot from a stunner did wonders for the more aggressive men in the city. They woke up groggy and stiff, and restrained in a broad assortment of ways. Rodney took a photo for posterity. It would make good ammunition in the informal rivalry between the military and scientific personnel.

There was satisfaction that he’d been correct in his theory. A regular proximity to the women, specifically to one or two women, had toned down the aggression of the men. Probably a genetic imperative; when you ‘owned’ a women - and he was very careful not to use that term anywhere near one of the women - then she was yours, so why intimidate her further?

It was possible that the possession worked the other way as well; after all, if you ‘owned’ a woman - or were owned by her, whichever way it went - she wasn’t going to take your interest in another woman particularly kindly.

By the morning after the morning after the night of the full moon, personnel were back in their quarters, and roaming around Atlantis. A day after that, the base was more or less back to normal. And that evening, Elizabeth called a meeting with him, Sheppard, and Carson to discuss the state of Atlantis following the full moon.

Carson was late.

“Well, _finally,_” Rodney exclaimed when Carson appeared in the door of the briefing room.

It earned him an arch glance from Sheppard and a quelling one from Elizabeth, but at this moment in time, he didn’t much care.

He was in a bad mood. Primarily because he hadn’t finished any of the research he’d planned to have done by today and the backlog was building up. The enemies they’d made in this galaxy weren’t going to stand still, even if Rodney’s concentration was shot two days after the night of the full moon.

It seemed to be pretty much the same state of affairs all through Atlantis.

Both men and women were restless in and of themselves, and with each other as the personnel got over ‘The Night Of The Bloody Swords’ as one of the control room technicians had labelled it. Apparently it was a reference to a chapter from a fantasy novel wherein a small number of heroes held a room against the repeated attacks of their enemies all night.

Irony, much?

Okay, so the men and women of Atlantis weren’t enemies exactly, but there was no lack of distance between most of the groups. The women were particularly wary of their male colleagues after the night of the full moon - and Rodney couldn’t blame them.

Given how the men had behaved - even those who’d been helping defend the women - he wasn’t terribly surprised that more than a few of the female personnel kept a careful distance around him.

It was a pity that Patricia Kelmar wasn’t one of them.

Then again, you couldn’t have everything.

Carson sat down in his chair with a huff, and glared at Rodney. “I was finishing off the bloodwork from the most recent personnel tests,” he said before he turned to Elizabeth. “I’m sorry I’m late, Dr. Weir.”

“But you have news?” Elizabeth seemed calm enough with her hands wrapped around the mug of tea - not coffee, but tea - that sat on the table in front of her.

“The testosterone spike is abating,” said Carson. “It’s still higher than usual, so there’ll be a few upsets for a while, but the worst is probably over.”

Rodney had to object to that. “The worst is _not_ over,” he snapped, irritably. “We’re still dealing with the ‘worst’ of this - all those women who won’t look us in the eye anymore.”

Carson frowned. “That’s not my job,” he said. “My job is the physical and physiological well-being of the base, and as far as that’s concerned, we’re getting better. I’ve spoken with Dr. Heitmeyer and she’s of the same opinion - behaviours are calming down all over the city, and while there are relational problems between the sexes, there are also signs that things are returning to normal as the moon wanes.”

“Are they going to re-occur when the moon waxes again?” Elizabeth’s question of course.

“It’s hard to say,” Carson said. “I’d be inclined to say ‘no’ - or, at least, not as much. One of the chemists has been working on the pollen compound. Apparently, when it’s fresh, it works in much the same way as a hormone released by the pituitary gland, activating the pituitary to release luteinizing hormone which stimulates the testes to produce testosterone in males.” He bobbed his head slightly, indicating uncertainty. “The process is slightly different in women, but the female body tends to respond to hormonal changes in the people around them.”

Beside Rodney, John sat forward a little, frowning. “So...we changed because of this pollen, and the women changed because of us?”

“Something like that,” Carson said. “It’s a little more complex than that.”

“You said ‘when it’s fresh,’” Elizabeth noted. She seemed pensive, rolling her mug between her hands. “What about when it’s not?”

“The pollen loses potency after a couple of days. We went back through the clothing assigned to Major Sheppard’s team and found pollen samples from their first trip to Tabaasa. It breaks down after a couple of days.”

Elizabeth nodded, “But this will happen every time a team goes through to Tabaasa?”

A shrug was all the answer she got. “At least until the pollen seasons ends.”

“There are ways around it,” Rodney pointed out. “Send only women to Tabaasa.”

“Not virgins,” Sheppard added dryly. His lip still bore a visible contusion from his encounter with Teyla. Exactly whatkind of encounter was still officially unknown.

Privately, Rodney knew that John Sheppard had tried to...well, force himself on Teyla - and she had responded predictably. Of course, nobody was brave enough to ask - not when Sheppard moved around the city like a man who was keeping himself from violence with a very thin thread of control.

Some men, it seemed, were responding worse to the aftermath of the testosterone poisoning than others; Sheppard was just one of them.

In the occasional thoughtful moments that prevailed upon him, Rodney wondered if John’s bad temper had anything to do with the fact that Teyla had promptly requested a pilot - a female one - to take her to the mainland to stay with her people for the last two days. A couple of the other ‘untouched women’ had gone with her, although a handful had stayed in defiance of the danger to themselves.

“Make sure that the trip back to Atlantis has a ‘stopover’ on a deserted planet,” he said. “We did that on the way back from Tabaasa the third time. Not that it made much difference.”

“Not that it would have made much difference,” said Carson, looking back at Elizabeth with his typically earnest expression. “By then, the pollen had already infected the base.”

Sheppard was drumming his fingers on his upper arm, and Rodney glared at him. Beneath the table, he could feel the vibrations of the other man jiggling his leg - an on-and-off agitation that was exacerbated by Rodney’s own restiveness. The Major sat up, stopping the leg-jiggling, and clenching his fingers tight. “If we time it right, then we can collect the food when there’s no...danger to us.”

Exactly. “It’ll mostly be a matter of scheduling,” Rodney pointed out.

She looked from him to Major Sheppard to Carson, and smiled. “Very well. I’ll arrange for an all-female team to pick up the first shipment then.”

“And we’ll have a party?”

Rodney rolled his eyes. It seemed that Ford’s repeated insistences on some kind of celebration had infected Sheppard. Elizabeth’s smile just broadened. “I think Lieutenant Ford’s idea of a party is an excellent idea. I’ll speak with the personnel in charge of the mess hall to see what they can organise.” She glanced around the room, “Is there anything else?”

“When do Teyla and the other women get back?”

Rodney studied the look that passed between Elizabeth and Sheppard - a challenge from one to the other. After a moment, Elizabeth said, “I don’t know. We haven’t heard back from them, yet.”

“Actually,” Carson said, almost apologetically, “Grodin was speaking on one of the communications channels when I came in. I think it might have been Lieutenant Hodge, with Teyla and the other women.”

“There you go, then,” said Elizabeth briskly. “Anything more?”

There was nothing more. At least, nothing more public. Rodney wanted a word with Elizabeth, but when she went towards her office, John followed, so that was out.

Of course, he hovered just long enough to hear Elizabeth say, “Are you going to apologise?”

He didn’t wait for Sheppard’s answer.

\--

John didn’t let any nervousness show on his face as he waited in the gym. If he was going to feel like an idiot, then at least he wasn’t going to look like one.

Common sense said that he looked fairly stupid waiting in the empty gym for a sparring partner who wasn’t likely to trust him around her again. That didn’t stop him from hoping.

He was jiggling his leg again and consciously stopped.

Damn, the waiting was hard.

In spite of taking care not to look edgy, John was nervous as all hell. His behaviour the other night had been way over the line - even given the mitigating circumstances. Then there was the slight problem of remembering what he’d done, every second of it.

And the moment he remembered with perfect clarity was the one when she’d looked up at him as he held her jaw in his hand, her eyes dark with anger, betrayal and a helplessness that was unlike Teyla.

The small group of women had come back from the mainland yesterday, and if they were cautious around the men of the base, at least they weren’t flinching every time a guy passed them in the corridors. Weir said it would take time for everyone to deal with what had happened.

As far as John was concerned, Elizabeth was another matter left unfinished. The distance between them wasn’t immediately plain, but he thought it pretty obvious that she was angry at having to take up a weapon against him.

Yeah, mending that bridge would take time.

Now, John waited for Teyla to show up to their scheduled fighting session. Or not.

Rodney was insufferably triumphant after having his theories proven right. Ford took it with good humour, Beckett rolled his eyes and went somewhere else as soon as McKay so much as mentioned the night of the full moon. Elizabeth was both amused and exasperated by McKay’s ebullience. Still, she managed to be tactful as ever, and adroitly changed the topic whenever it came up.

He was grateful for one person who was aware of just how uncomfortable the topic was to him.

Now he’d be all the more grateful if Teyla would just turn up. That would signal that things were okay between them. Maybe not back to where they were, but a starting point for rebuilding.

The afternoon light flowed through the window, warm and golden, and he scuffed his feet against the floor in impatience, then paused.

She stood in the doorway, her bag over her shoulder and her hair tied out of her face. Some remnant of the Tabaasan sensitivity still remained; enough for John to be very aware that there was a tension in her shoulders as she faced him.

“I wasn’t sure if we were on,” he said, seeing that she wasn’t going to start the conversation.

“I was not sure if it would be safe,” she said a moment later.

He gave her a terse smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Her mouth tried to curve in a smile but didn’t quite make it. She still held herself with a cool aloofness - none of her usual ease, and he saw the way she watched him. It was the same way she looked when they were in the midst of sparring - the watchful gaze of an enemy.

John took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” He hadn’t actually intended to apologise, but the words were there and they needed speaking. It was now or never, all or nothing.

Teyla nodded. “Your apology is accepted.” She glanced at the distance between them, then back down the corridor she had travelled to reach here. “I...”

“Look,” he said quietly, taking two steps across the gym. He stopped the instant she edged backwards. “I can’t take back what I did, Teyla. And you are...attractive.” The admission was more difficult than he’d expected, and her lips twitched slightly at his reluctance. “If you want to take time out from sparring, then I understand that. But on Earth, we have a saying; when the horse throws you, you climb back on.”

One auburn brow arched. “You are saying that we should return to sparring as though nothing has happened?”

“Not as though nothing has happened,” he said. “But...with a clean slate.” Another Earth metaphor that she didn’t understand. John tried to think of a more appropriate description. “We don’t let the past interfere.”

Plainly, she was still thinking it over.

And he couldn’t do anything but wait for her to finish.

She was studying him with the calm gaze that had disconcerted more than one person in Atlantis. He met her, look for look, telling his nerves that they could take this - he’d played the waiting game before.

But when she sighed, it jangled across his nerves like a Sergeant’s bellows on the battlefield.

He took another step forward, lifting his chin and meeting her gaze. “Teyla?”

“Major Sheppard?”

“Will you trust me?”

It was a gamble. John knew that. What was broken couldn’t always be fixed, and what was torn couldn’t always be mended.

But as Teyla set her shoulders and stepped into the room, he felt a genuine smile touch his lips for the first time in days.

Trust was a start.

\--

The celebration party was in full swing when Elizabeth finally arrived at the mess hall.

As she paused in the doorway, she cast her eye over the room. After the last week of tension between men and women, it was a pleasure and a relief to see that most people were sitting in mixed groups, talking and chatting with reasonable ease, if not quite the camaraderie of two weeks previously.

There were exceptions of course. She spotted various groups of marines scattered about the room. For the most part the ones who’d come off worst after the ‘Night of the Bloody Swords’ were the military personnel, whose generally higher testosterone levels had resulted in the more aggressive behaviour that was only now fading away.

No, Elizabeth wouldn’t be sending any male military personnel back to Tabaasa in a hurry.

As she started across the room, she caught various gazes of people she knew, and nodded at them, smiling slightly when she spotted Teyla sitting with Lieutenant Ford and a mixed group of personnel, both scientific and military. Major Sheppard, she noted, was carrying drinks over to them from the serving counter. She caught his eye and smiled, and received a slightly sheepish smile in return.

She wasn’t sure she’d quite forgiven him for putting her in the position of defender against him. If there was one man she’d trusted that she’d never have to defend herself against, it had been John. The night of the full moon had given her reason to doubt him.

She and John had already spoken about his actions and hers that night, mostly recriminations.

Then again, Teyla appeared to have forgiven him for his behaviour. Compared with that, what was Elizabeth’s grievance?

Yes, there were a lot of things they’d have to work through over the next few weeks.

“Elizabeth,” Dr. Heitmeyer stopped as she and a few others passed by on their way to a table. “Glad to see you could make it.”

The smile on the psychologist’s face indicated she was teasing, and Elizabeth felt her mouth curve. “This is one party I certainly wouldn’t miss. How is everything so far?” She eyed the food Kate had on her plate. “It looks delicious.”

“I haven’t tried any of it yet, but Kelly in the kitchen assured me that it’s all very tasty.” Kate leaned towards her in a conspiratorial fashion. “I think Rodney’s a little annoyed that there’s nothing he can complain about.”

She couldn’t quite help the laugh that sprang to her lips. “Where are you sitting?” When Kate indicated the corner of the room, she said, “Save me a place,” and continued on towards the serving counter. Her stomach was beginning to make growling sounds at the prospect of a meal with fresh-cooked ingredients - the aromas in the air were mouth-watering.

Indeed, the food both looked and smelled delicious, and the mess hall sergeants had written out labels to indicate what was in each dish. The names used for the labels were Tabaasan, but where an Earth equivalent existed, the cooks had put the descriptor in brackets.

Most of the personnel had already taken their food, and while some of the pots were empty, there were still quite a few remaining. She filled up her plate swiftly and was on her way to sit down, when Rodney intercepted her.

“Elizabeth,” he peered at her plate. “Ah good, I see you’re trying the bitter melon stuff. And the potato-like salad. I was going to recommend them. But the stroganoff is overcooked.”

It was irresistable to ask, “No citrus?”

He puffed up a little. “Does this look like the body of a man suffering from anaphylactic shock?”

She limited her amusement to a smile. “It’s good to know the Tabaasan food agrees with you.”

“Yes. You know, I was thinking,” he said, “that sending the military personnel away on the hunt was probably the worst thing you could have done that day.”

Elizabeth sighed, unnoticed by him. The last thing she either needed or wanted right now was a rehash of the last few days. “Rodney--”

He rambled on, quite insensible to her present impatience with his theory. “I mean, they were all hyped up on their testosterone levels, and you send them out to go kill things, which probably set them up even further. By the time they got back, the only thing they had to attack was each other or the women.”

“Rodney.” Once again, she found herself speaking a little more loudly to gain his attention.

Blue eyes fixed her with surprise. “What?”

“Can this wait until later?” She waved the plate at him and his head lifted in an ‘oh’ of understanding.

“Of course,” he said, and followed her towards the table where Kate Heitmeyer was sitting along with other personnel. “You know...”

“Rodney,” she warned him.

“I was just going to ask if you wanted a drink,” he said. It was her turn to stop and look surprised. “What?”

There’d been a moment when she’d had a very strong feeling of _déjà vu_. “Do you remember a conversation we had about usual behaviours?”

His expression said he did, turning patiently exasperated as he remonstrated, “Elizabeth, very little of what we’ve seen in the last few days has been in the parameters of the ‘usual behaviour’. Now, do you want a drink or not?”

It was hard not to smile. Not the most suave of men, ever. But without doubt, charming in his own way. “Yes, please.”

“Good.” He patted her on the shoulder and leaned in a little with what he probably considered a ‘wise and sagelike’ expression. “And my advice to you is ‘enjoy it while it lasts.’” And with that, he turned on his heel and made for the drinks counter, pausing to snap something at one of the junior scientists on the way.

Elizabeth watched him in bemusement before shaking her head and turning back towards the table.

Returning to normal, yes, but still definitely a little strange.

\- **fin** -

 


End file.
